


Pathetic Fallacy

by owl_do_it_later



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: A lot of triggers???, AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Investigator!Hide, Kaneki is has many personalities, LOTS OF SWEARING BEWARE, Mild Gore, Multi, Rating May Change, Smoking, Substance Abuse, Unbeta'd, Underage Drinking, a lot of making out, everyone is human, lab experiments, no ghouls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 63
Words: 230,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owl_do_it_later/pseuds/owl_do_it_later
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The attribution of human feelings and responses to inanimate things or animals, especially in art and literature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Souls Alone in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading this, and I hope it doesn't disappoint?

_His company left something to be desired. Biting down on the end of his cigarette, he drew the fumes deep into his throat, feeling the airiness spread through the channels behind his face, veiled by flaps of skin and facial muscles he was sure had atrophied. He hated the burn in his throat, behind his nose. He hated the way it forced him to struggle for air, to pull it deeper into his lungs. He could feel them burn like ulcers in his gut. He hated it._

_He took another long drag, blowing the pale smoke out of his mouth. His ‘friends’ were playing cards on the ground next to him. The signs of their terrible lifestyle were showing on their faces with hollow cheeks and eye sockets, wearing away lips and blackening teeth._

_Something that would never happen to him._

_Their hair would fall out in clumps during the night._

_Something that would never happen to him._

_They would wear away at their life until they wasted away, inhaling and ingesting toxins to fuck up their brains._

_Something that, no matter how hard he sought it, would never happen to him._

* * *

 

The parties he went to seemed to try and be loud and boisterous enough to make up for the terrible people they attracted. Hide wasn’t all that concerned with them, if he was honest. He always ended up going despite how little interest he had in the hope of at least meeting someone interesting. Weed used to be a novelty, but after enough of them he’d grown tired of the smell and the faces of people who were trying to destroy their insides.

They had every right to say the same about him, though. They must have been sick of the guy who’s bright and obtuse personality made up for the minimal addition he would make to their lives. The kid who tried to drink to fit in but never really got into the thick of it because he hated the way alcohol burnt his throat. Unlike the kids who got addicted to the feeling, he dreaded it.

That being said, his curiosity was an addiction that he was never able to shake.

He was required to take a breadth subject in order to get his degree in Forensic Science, and decided to follow his mother’s creative influence and take the Creative Writing course which, if he wanted to, could lead into Journalism. Of course, he hated Journalism but as the guy that would be doing autopsies it could be useful to him in later life.

That’s what he told himself to not feel like a mother’s boy.

This excuse to expose him to a form of inner artistry was also the excuse he used to justify going to these bad parties. It upheld his ‘image’ as well, but what was the joy in that?

“Hide, man, how are you?” he was created at the door by Takashi, who was neither the host of the party nor invited. This didn’t really bother Hide.

“Sup, man?” Hide clapped him on the back. “Ready for a wicked night?”

“Way ahead of you.” Takashi was already drunk. His eyes were rimmed in red and Hide could smell the beer on his breath. “There are some hot as fuck chicks here, I’m telling you. And, listen to this.” Takashi pulled him close to whisper into Hide’s ear.

“I hear the GLGs are coming.”

Hearing even just the initials of their name sent shivers down Hide’s spine. The GLG—Ghoul Land Gang—were the most brutal gang in the entire region. He’d even heard about them from where he’d grown up on the border of the state, the hairy armpit of nowhere. They were brutal, violent and rich.

Hide was no journalist but he wanted to write about this.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to Takashi, his voice buried under the weight of the news, his ears throbbing with the too-loud music. Takashi nodded excitedly, obviously too drunk to fully understand how bad things could get.

“Apparently they’ve got super hot chicks.”

* * *

 

The Ghoul Land Gang, true to the rumours, made no entrance. Hide wasn’t even aware that they had arrived before the cops came and chased them off. That was what he thought of the next morning. That, and the ethereal experience he’d had.

* * *

 

Hide lost track of time. Girls and boys alike had dragged him off to dance, shoved drinks down his throat, tried to share a bong. It must have been hours. He felt sweaty, gross, drunk, and _hot._ Everything was too hot. Too many bewitched bodies were mingling in a tiny, lit building. He wanted to get outside, so he did.

The fresh air provided mild relief, even surrounded by bodies. He had to separate himself. As much as he thrived in human contact, he had to take a breather before he felt he would combust.

He sat himself on the top of the brick fence that separated the house from the garage. From above, the party looked like an ocean of movement, lacking in any tempo, completely at the whim of the weather.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” came a voice from beside him.

Hide nearly jumped so high he could have fallen off the wall. As it was, he was sure he’d just jumped out of his skin. The boy next to him had appeared, as silent as a ghost.

He sure looked like one, too.

Dressed in dark clothes, the only thing that stood out to Hide were the shock of white hair and pale, almost sickly skin. His translucent eyelashes picked up the neon lights of the party below.

He brought a cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply before blowing out. “Makes you wonder, what drives that?”

“Um, I guess? Hi, I’m Hide.”

“Kaneki,” replied the boy without looking away from the party below. From any other person, Hide would have gotten the cold shoulder and ran.

But despite the guy’s distance, Hide didn’t feel like he was being pushed away. His voice was soft with the slightest edge of bitterness. Hide watched him take another drag of his cigarette, the smoke he blew out sucked up the neon lights like his lashes.

“That was a pretty philosophical statement, buddy,” Hide mused, leaning back on his arms, fingers hooked around the edge of the wall behind him. The roughness of the wall seemed to contrast with the soft edges of his sudden companion in a way Hide didn’t quite understand.

It was as if the boy really was a ghost.

“I try to avoid being too thoughtful,” the boy—Kaneki—admitted. He made a sour face and crushed the cigarette in his palm, making Hide wince. But the boy cast it aside. “Makes you too aware of the situation.”

“Jeez, how many bowls have you had today?”

The boy gave a wry smile, turning to Hide for the first time. Hide’s breath caught in his throat, seeing two irises that glowed like molten steel staring into his own. “Not enough, clearly.”

“To each his own, I guess,” Hide shrugged. “Forensic science. You?”

“Literature.”

“Holy shit, you _are_ an Arts student!” Hide mock-gasped, clapping a palm over his chest. “This explains it all!”

Kaneki scoffed, silver eyes focusing on the party below once again. He propped his chin on the heel of his hand, musing in silence.

The roar of the party seemed to ebb away to the dullest of humming when Kaneki spoke, voice cutting through the blurred-out world.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

The piercing of sirens cut through the air, casting Kaneki’s pale face in blue and red. His eyes were wide and so bright Hide felt like a deer in caught in one’s headlights.

People were yelling and screaming, police shouting warnings. Hide found himself drowning in Kaneki’s pale face, the way the lights made him look like a marble statue, all perfect angles and the slightest of smirks on the corner of his mouth, as if he was crafted by Michelangelo himself.

The world was a distant roar as Kaneki grabbed his collar and pressed his lips against Hide’s, stealing his breath. In that one instant Hide felt like he was being drunken up by a ghost, just a human-sized cigarette whose oxygen was inhaled like a drug.

Then Kaneki released him, and for an instant Hide saw the briefest of smiles on his lips before the boy jumped over the brick wall and disappeared like the wraith he was.

 

 


	2. To Converge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Hide embarrasses people and literally nothing happens for 2,000 words.  
> Please enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow maybe I should add slow burn to the tags??

Hide couldn’t believe that his first lecture was at 9AM on a Monday morning. The Saturday night party he’d been to—who’s mysterious Kaneki still haunted him—had left him completely wrecked all through Sunday, and he dreaded turning up to a _Creative Writing_ lecture first thing. He was also meant to have written a 1000-word short story that would be peer-critiqued.

This roughly translated to not going to bed on Sunday night. Like, at all.

He dragged his sorry, hungover arse into the lecture and sat himself down seconds before the lecturer came in. He dropped all unnecessary textbooks onto the ground next to his bag and pulled out his notebook, which he had lovingly filed the shitty story into.

“All right, students,” said the lecturer, “I want you to find a partner from this box I have down here. In this box are 13 numbers, two of each. Your partner is the one that pulls out the same number as you. You will then peer-edit each other’s work.”

Students moved downwards to where the professor had deposited the box as he readied himself, finding cords for his computer and pulling out notebooks. As Hide made his way down the stairs, he felt a familiar arm loop over his shoulders. Takashi.

“How are you doing after Saturday night?”

Hide noticed the bags under his eyes and the yellowness to his complexion. He was also fighting off the hangover as well as a bunch of other things he’d probably made the bad decision to consume on Saturday night.

“Wrecked,” Hide admitted. “The cops coming was a surprise, though. I guess our famous guests were a no-show?”

“Are you kidding?” Takashi exclaimed before his voice dropped to a wary whisper. “They came, all right. Three of them. One was a dealer with two guards. I only saw two of them, though. They brought some good shit. Yato paid a shit ton for what we got. Then the cops busted us.”

“Doing drug deals probably isn’t the healthiest activity anyway,” Hide shrugged. “I hope you think better than getting addicted to the shit.”

“As a college student, I can only wish for the recreational use. The experience!” Takashi cried, throwing out his arms. “I don’t really plan on becoming much of an addict, though. Things would go bad.”

“You’re telling me.” By now, they’d made it to the front of the line. Hide reached into the box. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a blind exercise, because there were only two numbers left: 12 and 8. He and Takashi shared a look, and Hide took 12.

Most people had gone back to their seats with their newfound partner. A handful of people remained looking for their corresponding number. Takashi clapped Hide on the back and went off with his partner: a short brunette girl who had been holding her card up in front of her.

Two more people went off: two girls.

There was only one boy left.

“Number 12?” Hide asked, smiling. The boy in question was around his height, with glasses and dressed in a button-down shirt under a knitted jumper. The top button was done up but he wore no tie. It was a certain thing that unnerved Hide, but he respected the guy’s choice. On top of that he wore a beanie, and Hide saw the fringe of some bleached hair poking through the front.

His partner—one of eight boys in the class, compared to 18 girls—seemed like a weird mix of hipster and dork.

Hide’s curiosity went off with a spike. On top of that, there was something eerie and familiar about the boy, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hi,” Hide said, holding up his card. “Looks like I’m your partner. My name’s—”

“Hide,” the boy supplied. His voice was timid, like he was shy. Hide’s eyebrows went to his hairline.

“You know me?”

“Everyone in this university knows you,” the guy said. “Nice to meet you.”

“And . . . ?” Hide gestured, trying to inspire more of a response.

The boy looked confused.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh!” his eyes widened, and his face reddened in embarrassment. “Sorry, I forgot.” The boy rubbed at his chin, smiling nervously. “My name is— my name is Sasaki.”

“Nice to meet ya!” Hide grinned. Sasaki smiled softly.

“I’ll move my stuff to sit next to you, so . . . be right back!”

Hide jogged up to his books and then instantly regretted it. His head pounded and he had to stop and rest, forcing away the urge to empty his guts onto the ground.

“Are you all right?”

Hide nearly squealed in terror, falling sideways. A hand grabbed his arm and steadied him, surprisingly strong. His partner, Sasaki, stood there. How did that guy just _appear_?

“I’m so sorry!” the guy looked apologetic, all right. Hide was taken aback, unable to speak from surprise and trying to flush the adrenaline out of his system.

He released Hide, who laughed it off. “It’s all right, man. You just surprised me is all. It’s probably because I’m on a caffeinated hangover right now, though. Don’t worry.”

Sasaki still looked pretty apologetic. Hide pet his shoulder enthusiastically. Turning, he gathered up his book and turned to look for Sasaki—

The space behind him was empty. Thoroughly confused now, Hide scanned the lecture hall for the beanie he had seen the guy in.

“Whoa,” he murmured, unable to locate him.

“What are you waiting for?”

“ _HOLY SH_ —STOP SCARING THE BEJESUS OUT OF ME!” Hide squealed. The sound carried in the quiet hall, so that everyone was staring right at them. Sasaki’s face was bright red with embarrassment, his hand partially outstretched, his mouth open, ready to apologise.

No sound came out of his mouth for a long, tense moment.

The two stared at each other, brown eyes on grey, and in those wide, pale eyes Hide found himself drowning in déjà vu. Why?

“Sorry,” Sasaki whispered hoarsely.

“It’s fine,” Hide said quickly. “Really, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m just hungover and—”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it! I’m just a flighty person, so—”

“Sorry, Hide.”

“It’s cool,” Hide said, his tone softening. He noticed the wet film gathering over the smaller boy’s eyes. “Really, it’s not your fault. It’s like a superpower, dude! You can just appear out of nowhere like BOOM!” Hide laughed.

Sasaki gave a small smile, relieved but still guilty. He led Hide to his seat, still red-faced. When they stopped, Hide realised that Sasaki had been sitting in an area devoid of anyone else, as if Sasaki was an island in a sea of solitude.

He stood next to Sasaki’s seat, looking out below. He was in one of the upper corners of the room, and Hide was struck with how much of the room he could see.

“So, what did you write about?” Sasaki was still shy, Hide noticed.

“Honestly, I probably wrote something about life and death or something, since I felt like death at the time. What about you?”

“I actually didn’t do it,” Sasaki admitted. “But I guess I can—”

“Holy crap,” Hide whispered in shock, “You _so_ did not fit that stereotype.”

Sasaki looked at him, completely lost. “What?”

“I thought you were a complete bookworm kind of guy! How could you not do the homework?”

“I forgot,” Sasaki, rubbing his chin nervously. He dragged it over his cheek and fixed his glasses. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no need to apologise to me,” Hide said, shrugging. “I’m sorry that you have to read mine. Anything that you want peer-edited?”

“I have a small essay on a phrase.”

“Whoa, that’s hard.”

“Not really,” Sasaki shrugged. “You can read that if you want, but essays _are_ pretty boring.”

“It would probably help me, in all honesty,” Hide laughed. “Which phrase?”

 _“_ _Dulce_ _et decorum est pro patria mori,”_ Sasaki said, pulling out the paper in question. “My Literature professor said to analyse a poem based on its title, so I did.”

“Isn’t that the war poem guy?”

“Yeah, Wilfred Owen.”

“Okay, well, I’ll do that, and you can read this shitty thing.”

Sasaki gave another smile. It was a nice smile, Hide decided. Not large and sunny, like his own, but timid and sweet. Gentle.

Strong, but at the same time, like it was bordering on a smirk—

“Hey, are you okay?” Sasaki waved a hand in front of Hide’s face, snapping him out of it. Hide laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, sorry. Got lost in thought.”

His hands had begun to turn cold, his stomach sinking. That eerie sense of déjà vu he’d been having started to manifest into suspicion.

Surely not. It was a foolish thought. They were nothing alike.

“Is it all right to highlight and write on your paper?” Hide asked, holding a highlighter-pen ready. Sasaki nodded, not looking up from Hide’s ‘story’.

“Sure. It’s probably boring and repetitive, so brace yourself.”

 _Dolce Decorum est is a war poem by Wilfred Owen that depicts the brutality and constant fatigue of the First World War, its title coming into play in the closing lines of the poem, where the speaker realises how disenchanted they have become with ‘the old Lie’ that is the phrase “Dolce et decorum est pro patria mori.”_. . .

* * *

 

“I don’t see what the problem with your essay is,” Hide said as they were packing up. “It’s got to get an A at least.”

“You think?” Sasaki said, a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “Thanks. I get stressed about that class.”

“But clearly not this one!” Hide laughed. “To be honest, I nearly didn’t write one either.”

“It’s good,” Sasaki told him, eyes earnest. “Kind of intense, though. That ghostly kid of yours seems pretty ethereal.”

“I know, right?” Hide exclaimed. “Would you believe it was based off a real experience?”

“I guess so,” Sasaki said, shrugging. “Would have been kind of scary, though, right? A guy randomly appearing next to you?”

“Oh God, yeah. I nearly screamed. He kind of reminds me of you, actually.”

Sasaki’s response took a moment too long. Hide examined his face and saw that the look in his eyes had changed. No longer were they earnest, they had grown dull behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “Really? But I’m not like that at all.”

Hide was sure that he was taking things too far, being too paranoid, but that response sounded very, very fake.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Sasaki!” said Hide, waving. “Can I sit next to you in tomorrow’s class?”

Sasaki’s eyes brightened for a moment, then he looked away. “Sure. Yeah. Of course. See you then.”

* * *

 

The party on Saturday night was the talk of the town, so to speak. Hide had about thirty different conversations about it and mainly, of course, the three GLG members. Everyone appeared to have only seen two—or zero, like Hide—despite the fact that everyone had been told that there were three. A mystery, he supposed.

In fact he got so caught up in a discussion about it that he was late to Forensic Science.

“In addition to the appearance of pressure wounds, we have— NAGACHIKA HIDEYOSHI, COME IN QUIETLY NEXT TIME, PLEASE!”

Hide’s professor was a mix between a legend and a monster. Professor Amon was a big guy with absolutely legendary eyebrows that was also an Investigator at the CCG, the largest detective agency in the world.

He also had it in for Hide, because Hide worked there part-time as a delivery boy, which meant that, when he was late to class, Amon would threaten to have him fired. Hide knew he wouldn’t, because the guy was a little bit of a gentle giant, but it still scared Hide shitless each time.

“Sorry, professor!” Hide called, sitting himself down. Amon let out an exasperated sigh and resumed his presentation. Today, they were looking at wounds associated with strangulation. Amon was up to where pressure bruises would be normally found—the neck and face, usually—and any other wounds that would indicate how many people were involved and whether the assailant was a male of female.

His slide show comprised of many gruesome autopsy photos. Hide sometimes questioned why he was so passionate about the subject when the photos made him that ill. They hadn’t even had a practical yet.

That would be fun.

At the end of the class, Amon pulled him aside. “Hide, you have to stop being late to these lectures.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry Professor, I was just having this really interesting conversation, and I completely forgot about the time, and then I was—”

“You wouldn’t be involved with the party that happened on Saturday night, would you?”

Hide clammed up, smiling brightly. Shit. What was he going to say?

“Uhh . . . no?”

“ _Nagachika.”_

“Yes, yes, I was. Fine. Bust me. I went to a student party and got wasted. Wow.”

Amon sighed. “You’re not in trouble. I was just wondering if I could use you as a witness. I was going to give you a talking-to about being late, but if you give me some good pointers, maybe I’ll forgive you.”

This was another perk of his superior also being his professor.

Hide grinned. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess . . .”

Amon pulled out his notebook, which he always seemed to have on him. “Are you aware that the GLG appeared?”

“I know they did, but I never saw them.”

“When did you hear about it?”

“When I walked in, I was told by one of the guests—who I think crashed the party, because I don’t know them—that the GLG was coming to deliver ‘good stuff’.” Hide made quotation marks sarcastically, the lie falling easily off his tongue. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to keep Takashi out of this, but he had the feeling that the entire mystery that was the GLG was not safe.

“Could you describe the guest?”

“Um . . . I can try? I think they had dark hair? I don’t know, Amon. I think I got a bit _too_ wasted to remember it clearly.”

Amon sighed. “Typical students. Fine. What else? You’re one of the most observant people I know, Hide. You must have noticed something. That, and trouble seems to gravitate towards you.”

He was referencing, of course, the time Hide was involved in witnessing a criminal beat up a young girl on the street he was walking on. Hide ended up with thirteen stitches after that encounter.

That had been a ride. It was also how he had met Amon when he’d first moved to the city: a young country kid full of morals who had stuck up where he shouldn’t have and got the crap beat out of him.

He’d do it again.

“Well, I ended up sitting in the observers seat, funnily enough,” Hide laughed. “I’ve had a lot of people tell me there were three GLG members there, but they only saw two.”

Amon nodded, scribbling it down. “That makes sense.”

“What does? Only seeing two of them?”

Amon nodded again, reaching over to grab a file before handing it to Hide. “These are the people we suspect were there, including the one no one saw. It fits his brief.”

_It fits his brief? Who’s brief?_

But as Hide opened the file, he realised.

It was an artist’s impression, based off eye-witness accounts: the soft, round face, angular, silver eyes, and the shock of bright white hair.

_Kaneki._

_Kaneki Ken._

Just who had Hide been talking to, that night?

“So, do you know them?” Amon’s voice caused Hide to snap back to reality for the umpteenth time that day. He scanned the other two pages—a boy with dark, wild hair (also an artist’s impression), a man with short blonde hair, and a girl named “Rabbit” with no picture.

Was he going to lie to his superior? Did this guy really mean that much to him?

Nagachika Hideyoshi was made up of impulses, he decided. He would follow his country gut instinct.

“Sorry, Amon,” he said, “I may have been drunk, but I don’t remember seeing anyone like this.”

He walked out a few minutes later feeling like he was about to fall, vertigo gripping his chest. He’d lied to his superior’s face.

Why?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyussss~  
> Thanks to everyone who read it! I just had a massive headcannon and so the story is born. It will get somewhere, I swear.  
> and holy crap i have an issue with linebreaks why


	3. To Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaah i will die these two are so cute (◑‿◐✿)

Hide was awoken by his head hitting the desk in front of him. He snapped back, eyes stinging and head pounding. He glanced around the room, noting with distaste that he was sitting in another Forensic Science Lecture. Another 9AM lecture, on a Wednesday of all days. Hazily he remembered his Tuesday passing quickly. On Tuesdays he only had a Journalism lecture and Science practical, which was basically Amon showing them plastic models. They didn’t move on to autopsies until next term.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Work had gone on _forever_ last night. Amon had been gruelling, and Akira had gotten involved, and Hide felt like a child grilled by his parents about the whole party thing. The influx of reports meant that Hide was the one who was responsible for cycling down to the secure P.O. Box full of government files and then cycle back to the office.

Honestly, he’d thought even the small 20th ward branch of he CCG would have at least a proper courier service.

Apparently not.

Amon gave Hide a look from the other end of the auditorium. Hide grinned away his embarrassment and waved, feeling like an animated sunflower.

(Or maybe an alcoholic sunflower, with puffy red eyes, a headache, and a general distaste for life at that current time. Also, it was metaphorically and physically drowning. In work.)

The image was so disturbing Hide never wanted to ever drink again. One party a _year_ was too much for him, especially where white-haired ghostly male beauties were concerned.

Hide felt his face grow redder just thinking about it.

Nope, nope, nope. He slapped at his cheeks. He was busy being an alcoholic sunflower. He did _not_ have time to fantasise about a dangerous criminal.

He focused on the lecture, taking notes. He felt like his pen was on fire. He was focused, he was on-task—

_Kaneki Ken._

God, Hide could have screamed.

* * *

 

“Are you all right, Hide?”

The familiar voice made him jump. Hide pressed a palm down over his nearly-exploding heart from the shock. In front of him stood Haise Sasaki, beanie drawn low and thick-framed glasses magnifying his huge, deer eyes.

Hide had thought he was dosing off, but he must have been super into it if he hadn’t even heard Sasaki appear. Where did that guy even come from?

Hide gave Sasaki a millisecond analysis: dressed nearly the same as yesterday, just with a slightly baggier jumper. In one hand he held a travel mug and a small paper back, and in the other he’d propped his books against his chest.

“I’m bone-tired, but okay. Didn't hear you come up, man! How are you?”

“Good,” said Sasaki simply, smiling politely. “Do you . . . um, do you mind if I sit here?”

Hide had crashed on one of the trees in the garden. Around the other trees, groups of students had gathered. Hide shrugged. “If it is what your animal heart desires, you may place your posterior on the ground beside me.”

Shit, that sounded way too harsh. He’d meant it as a joke, but it sounded so mean! Sasaki seemed like such a delicate guy, no way would he—

Sasaki plopped himself down with a quiet “hup!” He dumped his books and sipped at his coffee. “Sorry to be a bother,” he said, giving Hide a sideways look. He looked so sincere it could have broken Hide’s heart.

“Of course you can sit here!” Hide cried, grabbing Haise’s shoulder. “Why wouldn’t you? Hey, even if I didn’t want you to, you can tell me to piss off, okay? You can sit wherever you want around me, I don’t care.”

Wow, that was passionate of him.

Sasaki’s cheeks grew pink. “Thanks . . .” he nipped at the top of his cup, shy. Pale, bleached bangs fell over his eyes.

“It’s all g,” said Hide, leaning back on the tree. “I guess I’m a bit forceful of a guy. I hate making people feel, like, bad uncomfortable. I’m not made of glass, I won’t shatter if you tell me to fuck off—which you can also tell me, Sasaki. If I’m being like super intense and shit and you are thinking ‘wow, what a crappy dude’, just tell me. We’re both big boys, we can live on past mortal wounds.”

Filling Sasaki’s silence with Hide’s own, rapid words, he waited for the corner of his lips to smile. When they did, Hide relaxed. He felt so invested in making this guy happy, like there was a delicateness to him that needed to be protected.

Those great big deer eyes of his, Hide was sure.

“So . . .” Hide cleared his throat. “What you got tonight?”

“Philosophy and chemical engineering.”

 _“Holy shit,”_ Hide breathed. Sasaki’s head snapped to look at him, caught off-guard by Hide’s response.

“Chemical engineering?” Hide’s voice was a squeak. “You do chemical engineering? I thought you were Literature!”

“I am,” Sasaki supplied, looking dumbfounded. “I had to pick a breadth subject outside my field, so I picked chemical engineering with a focus on genetics.”

“But—you already do Creative Writing, Literature and Philosophy. How . . . ?”

“Because of my grades, I applied for an extra subject, and Kamii allowed it.” Sasaki was answering directly, if not a little embarrassed of mentioning his grades. But Hide wasn’t sure if the weight of his words had registered with Sasaki yet. Doing four subjects at Kamii was _suicide._ No wonder he didn’t do the Creative Writing homework.

Hide let out a long, low whistle, throwing his head back and staring at the green, overlating canopies above. “Do you have any life outside of school.”

“None,” Sasaki said, simply and almost dumbly. Hide was so confused by this guy. He could appear out of nowhere, defy his stereotype and at the same time be an idiot. He was an enigma that defied Hide’s ‘deduction’, as Takizawa called it.

Hide closed his eyes. Fatigue was being held at bay now by the conversation, but in its comfortable lapses, he found himself losing focus. “Tell me about yourself, Sasaki,” he said, unmoving.

“What about myself?” Hide could almost hear the sipping of coffee and the turning of textbook pages. It was comforting.

“Where you’re from, what school you went to, future aspirations, funny stories, anything.”

“There’s not much to tell.” Was Sasaki getting shy, now? Had Hide pressed a button?

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he said quickly, cutting Sasaki off. He sat up, leaning forward on his knees. He turned and grinned sideways at Sasaki. “No pressure. Only what you want to tell.”

Sasaki’s eyebrows were disappearing under the thick band of his beanie. He shrugged, looking down. “I’ve always lived in the city. Went to East Tokyo Junior High and Central Tokyo Senior High.”

_The two most prestigious schools in the entire country._

“And why are you doing Literature if you’re that smart?”

Sasaki fell silent, eyes growing dull. His actions stilled, and Hide could almost feel the air becoming colder.

“I like to read,” he said.

There was none of the cute dumbness now, Hide noticed. His words were hollow. Empty answers. There was definitely more to this.

“What about you? What’s your story?” Sasaki was trying to keep up the conversation, but Hide could tell he was more interested in his book, now. Crap, Hide had pushed too far. What an idiot!

“Out from the hairy armpit of nowhere in the general northern direction. Parents are hillbillies. My school put me through national entrance exams and found that I was eligible for a city school, but I ended up staying home because my parents got scared I’d be eaten by like, the mafia or something. But now I’m an adult and could rent a dorm for Kamii itself.”

“So you work for the CCG, then?”

Hide’s blood turned ice cold. Whilst he heard no malice in Sasaki’s tone, the quick comment unnerved him. He could hear the rationale in Sasaki’s voice, still tuned to his book: _moved from the city, parents scared of mafia, must have interest in the underworld of the city. Renting a dorm, very expensive. Must have a job. Job must have high income and not-so-high hours so he can dedicate time to work. Potential employers? . . . CCG._

“Yup!” Hide laughed. Of course, Sasaki was a smart guy. It wasn’t that hard of a riddle to figure out. Hide ran a hand through his hair. “My seniors are so mean, you have no idea.”

Sasaki gave a small smirk, and Hide felt his suspicions lift. The air became warm again just from that small curl of the lips.

It made him feel safe.

Holy shit, did he have a crush on the guy?

First Kaneki Ken, now Sasaki-fucking- Haise. Oh, what a joy his life was.

But the two were complete opposites. Brain, how did you work?

“I board in the West wing. It’s kind of dodgy. My roommate hates me, I’m pretty sure, but he seems to hate everyone.”

“He sounds exactly like someone I know,” Sasaki smiled, laughing at his own memories. “Complains that everyone else is shitty.”

“Holy crap—yes!” Hide jumped forward, grabbing Sasaki by the wrists. “And he’s strawberry blonde, taller than me, with a terrible attitude, and—” Hide realised that he was just about shouting into Sasaki’s bright-red and shocked face.

He threw down Sasaki’s hands and jumped back, holding out his palms. “Yo, I’m really sorry, I’m just such a hands-on person, I really didn’t—Oh, God, I’m really sorry.”

Sasaki’s eyes were wide and grey, those silver irises the same shape and texture of the moon: perfectly round and reflective with surprise. “It’s fine,” said Sasaki quickly, bringing his knees up and all-but burying his crimson face in his textbook.

They were quiet for a long, flustered silence. Hide hung his head in shame. That drunk sunflower was definitely a sad metaphor for his life right then.

“B-besides, it still sounds like someone I know,” Sasaki added, tentatively at first, as if making a peace offering of food to a hungry animal. “He’s doing Science. You might know him.”

“Nishio Nishiki?” asked Hide excitedly, rocking forward, eyes locked onto Sasaki’s face again.

“ . . . Yes,” Sasaki breathed out. “That’s the guy.”

“Holy _crap,_ ” Hide said, bubbling with laughter at the hilarity of the situation. Talk about Sasaki being the polar opposite to the people in his life. “How? I get the impression that you’d probably avoid a guy like him.”

Sasaki shrugged, smiling ruefully. “Long story.”

_Can you tell it to me?_

Sasaki glanced down at the phone to his left, which had lit up with a vibrating alarm. “Ah, sorry. I have to go for a test now.” He gathered up his things quickly, downing the last of his coffee.

Hide sat in silence, his short-circuiting brain unable to deal with the situation. He watched Sasaki stand to leave with a numbness in his limbs.

“Um,” Sasaki started nervously. He held out the paper bag. “It’s a muffin I bought from down the road, but I realised I didn’t like the flavour. So . . . I can’t really eat it because of the tes, and it would be a waste . . . do you want it?”

“What? Oh, um, I mean—”

Sasaki pressed the bag into his hands and stepped back. “See you later, Hide. Thanks for letting me sit with you, and sorry for being a bother. Bye!”

Hide watched him walk off, numbly. Despite his nervous demeanour, his gait was confident and strong. What a strange guy.

In his wake, Hide noticed the first leaves of a bright red autumn falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no real developments in this chapter? still fun and meaningful of me? maybe you guys agree? maybe?
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and bookmarked the last 2 chapters! It really means a lot and I'm super happy that people are enjoying the story!
> 
> Thanks, guys!


	4. To Dispute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kaneki has an eye-patch and hide knows too much medical stuff for his own good so much blushing omg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent even proofread this just a warning.  
> also i am not a medical student so i may have dramatised the injury for the sake of the story. hell, maybe hide was making it up too idk ＼( ｀.∀´)／

The white-haired youth regarded the scene before him. Two gangly, scarecrow of men lay in a bloody heap on the tarmac, their blood being guzzled up by a drain. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought it was the sound of rainwater.

But he did know better.

At the mouth of the alley, his partner appeared: slim and petite, their hood pulled up against the back of their head and pinned to their rabbit mask.

“We’re done here. Uta wants you.”

“Okay." He followed his partner out of the alleyway. What would be the cost, this time? How monstrous would he have to appear to them to be worthy?

Was there even a cost, anymore? Did it mean anything to him?

The client this time was well dressed in a suit and taller than Kaneki, his chin-length hair perfectly groomed and styled around his face. He reminded Kaneki a fraction of Tsukiyama in his style, but there was something off about the man that Kaneki didn’t approve of. It was something he had felt before.

Uta introduced them. “Kaneki, this man from the Garden says he can find Kanou.”

Kaneki stared at him levelly. The Garden was one of the powerful, shadowy groups that V was associated with.

“Furuta Nimura,” said the man, his voice polished and businesslike.

“Kaneki,” he answered. At this, Furuta smiled, cunning glinting in his eyes. “But clearly you already know that.”

“Very astute of you, Mr Kaneki,” he said, tugging on the lapels of his overcoat. “And, as I’m sure you’re aware, the Garden wants to . . . verify you have the background you claim to with Dr Kanou.”

Kaneki was well aware that they wanted what Kanou had made, not Kanou. The Garden was a controlling, precise group.

Kaneki didn’t care, really, what they wanted with Kanou, because there was no way he would stay alive after Kaneki had visited him.

“Okay,” Kaneki said. “What would you like? Please bear in mind I do have to work over the next few days, so a manageable area would be preferred.”

Furuta took a long, graceful step forward, and Kaneki was met by large, dark eyes staring deep into his own. “You have very unique eyes, Kaneki Ken,” he said. His fingertip pressed against Kaneki’s left eyelid.

“I want this one.”

* * *

 

“Don’t you dare be late to the next one, Hide!”

Amon was yelling after him, tormenting him as Hide hurried off to his next lecture. Honestly, the guy. Hide was just grateful he didn’t have work tonight so he’d cop even more abuse.

It was always his fault, it seemed. He _always_ seemed to walk in a few minutes late and Amon was _always_ on time. Hide inwardly sighed, the arts wing coming into view. Hide had overslept again. He’d stayed up far too late last night.

Doing what?

Researching Kaneki—fucking—Ken.

In fact he probably would have stopped sooner if he’d actually found something. The guy seemed to be a ghost with hardly any trace. He found a single record of a deceased mother in the Deceased Citizens database, listed as ‘son’ to the victim of a heart attack nearly a decade ago, Mrs Asaoka. He still wasn’t sure if it was Kaneki, because he was simply listed as K. Kaneki.

If he was such a dangerous suspect, why couldn’t he find anything? He even went through the CCG (with the password Takizawa had given him ages ago that he had remembered) and still found only that artist impression Amon had shown him. His age was ‘estimated’, his gender was ‘supposed’, his affiliation with the GLG was unknown. It was as if the guy had appeared out of thin air.

What a ghost.

He couldn’t tell this to Amon, however, because Amon would demand to know how the hell he got into the CCG data, and Hide did _not_ want Takizawa, the only sane person there, to leave him.

He walked into the buzzing Journalism lecture room, full of pre-class chatter, and sat himself down at one end of the hall where he could see the screen well. Today was going to be a long day.

And of course, his day didn’t improve when he was given an assignment.

“Recently, there have been a lot of drug-related crimes in the surrounding suburbs—it often is in a university area—but it has spiked recently, as you’d know if you paid attention to the news. I made a graph to compare all drug-related crimes of previous months in relation to this one.” The lecturer pointed his remote at the screen, flicking to the page with his red line graph. It showed a low, linear increase for the last year, and this month spiked sharply upwards.

“Your assignment,” said the professor, pushing his glasses up, “is to write about why and how. You’re all budding journalists, and journalism is a dangerous occupation. This being said, don’t go out into dangerous territory. Just go to the police archives or maybe even the CCG.”

The professor flicked to the next page. On it was the assignment document with dates, briefs, criteria, etc.

“I hope you’re all writing this down.”

* * *

 

Sasaki looked ready to fall asleep when Hide walked into Creative Writing. The hipster-dork, as Hide had started to see him as, propped his head on his hand, his eyelid drooping behind the lenses of his glasses. Hide saw some seriously bad dark bags under his eyes.

“Wow, have a late night last night, Sasaki?”

The boy’s eyes—or eye, Hide noticed suddenly, as his left was hidden behind an eye-patch—rolled towards him. His stare was long and hollow. “Something like that,” he muttered, turning away. Hide watched the slow, tired lowering and opening of his visible eyelid.

Hide sighed, sitting down. “Seems like a dreary day.”

Sasaki said nothing, blinking slowly, like a dog in your lap falling asleep under the rhythm of petting its head. Hide was familiar with the experience.

He wondered if Sasaki would fall asleep if he stroked his hair, too.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Hide opened his books quickly, his face feeling hot. How old was he? Fifteen? Was he that awkward pubescent kid that had no control over his weird fantasies? No! He was an adult. He was in control.

He added it the mental list of ‘things I would do’.

“So what happened to your eye? You get in some awesome bar fight?”

Sasaki snapped to, shocked for a second. “Ah, no. I actually just slipped over last night in the bathroom and hit my head on the sink. It’s pretty embarrassing.”

“Whoa, that’s rough. Were you, like, wasted?”

“What?” Sasaki looked at him quizzically before turning his attention back to his book. He shook his head. “No. No, I hate alcohol, actually.”

“Damn, you should hate me, then,” Hide laughed. “At my high school, I became famous for doing stupid shit at parties.”

Sasaki shook his head, but Hide saw that faint smile. It made his chest constrict. He wanted that smile to always be there, because when it wasn’t, Sasaki’s face looked . . . sad. Just sad and tired. His face was always changing and forming expressions, Hide knew, but in those rare lapses, there was a glimpse into a tired, tired boy.

One who had bags under his eyes and pale skin, wore long-sleeved tops and collared shirts, a baggy beanie and glasses, who carried new-looking textbooks and old-looking notebooks.

He was weird, like a slab of cookie dough that didn’t quite fit any cookie cutter. If you looked at him from a certain angle, he was something completely different. The only thing that seemed consistent was that shy, timid nature that so easily turned beetroot red and was shy of human contact.

Hide almost felt protective.

 _He’s a big boy,_ Hide told himself, _you’re not his mother. Leave him be._

“So, what’s wrong with it? Did it bleed? Swell up? Do you have an epic shiner?” Hide pressed the side of his face into the desk looking up at Sasaki. “Does it hurt? Can I see? Is it really impressive? You should make sure that it’s not too close to the actual eyeball, or it can cause bad swelling behind the eye and cause the actual eyeball to get squished, which can—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Sasaki said, waving his hands in front of him. “Thank you for your concern, Hide, but don’t worry! It’s just a little bruised and has a little scratch around here”—he gestured to the outer corner of his eye—“so I thought I’d keep it covered.” He smiled, looking apologetic.

Of course he would, Hide scolded himself, he should have realised by now that Sasaki was pretty sensitive to that kind of invasive, in-your-face attitude. If Hide had kept going, he could have convinced the guy that his eye would split and leak optical fluids, which could—if extreme enough—blind him.

“Are you sure it’s fine?” Hide asked, slightly concerned. Broken skin could easily lead to infection on the face. “Do you want me to take a look? I _am_ a science student.”

“No, thank you. Really, thank you for concerning yourself about it, but it’s fine,” Sasaki gave him another one of his embarrassed, apologising smiles. “I think it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

Hide pouted. “Anything concerning the superoptical ridge or groove can be pretty risky.”

Sasaki’s cheeks reddened. He looked away, head still propped on his hand. “It’s . . . you know a lot about your subject.”

Hide felt his own face redden. He sat up scratching at his cheek bashfully. “Ah, you. Well, I did have to pass all the anatomy and physiology holiday courses before I could do anything else.”

“It’s still really impressive, though.” Sasaki had turned to look at him now, deer eyes large with that seemingly intrinsic sincerity. Hide could all but see his cheeks glowing. “Th-thanks,” he said quietly, scratching at his cheek.

Sasaki gave him a smile, and Hide felt his heart fucking stop it was so gorgeous.

Hide stared down at his notes, eyes wide. How was he going to make it through this lecture, now?

He was almost grateful when the lecturer began speaking about how their Internal Assessment was going to be a play script. The impending stress took his mind off of how much of it Sasaki Haise did, at that time, occupy.

* * *

 

“So it’s all healed up?” Nimura Furuta pulled at the delicate skin of his eyelids, poking around to make sure the eye had fully recovered. Although a little bloodshot, the actual eyeball had reformed, nerves and all. The lens had come in during the day, and the retina had lined up in the afternoon.

If he didn’t hate it, Kaneki would say that he was somewhat pleased with the rate of recovery.

“So we have a deal, Furuta?”

Furuta grinned widely in that tight-lipped sort of way that showed only the sharp ends of the frontal incisors. Like he wasn’t already a creepy enough person.

“Of course,” he said. He glanced across to Uta, holding out his hand. “It will be a pleasure to work with this group. What do you call yourselves?”

Kaneki wasn’t impressed.

“Why would we have a name when our aim is to hide, Furuta?”

* * *

 

At 11:03PM, Hide received a text from Takashi:

_Hey wanna come to a party on fri? ur doing drug shit yea?_

Hide wasn’t sure why he replied saying: _ill be there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos and commenting! I do read and sometimes reply to the comments. They make my day XD
> 
> have a great day and thanks again!


	5. The Wild Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kaneki has friends and hide is a child who's mother is exactly like mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i legit realised today that the only two stories i have here involve drunk young people how australian can i get smh
> 
> as usual no proofreading pls enjoy

“We’ve got three jobs tonight,” Kaneki said, handing each of them the vaccum-sealed bag to trap the air, wrapped inside a garbage bag to offer protection and taped with duct tape to stop any rustling of plastic to draw attention. They were wrapped thick enough and tight enough to look like some new form of pipe bomb.

Parcels.

“Touka, we’re delivering yours to a nightclub in the East district. Yours, Ayato, is going to be in the University sector, another shady rich kid. Our last stop is going to be Tsukiyama’s so we can deliver the latest batch.”

“Have they been tested?” Ayato bagged the parcel and zipped up his backpack, slinging it back over his shoulder. He’d hung his mask around his neck. “You know how bad it is when we deliver bad goods.”

“Yeah,” said Kaneki. “They’ve been tested.”

Dimly, the hazy memories of spending the night in the office, making that huge sum of money to submit himself to taking potential toxic amounts of narcotics and stimulants.

They’d been tested.

Ayato almost looked ashamed with himself for asking. His baby face was deceptively young-looking, even though Kaneki knew he was nearly sixteen.

It was still too young, Kaneki thought.

Touka shouldered her bag, pulling on her rabbit mask. “Let’s head out.”

Silently, they made their way about the quiet city.

* * *

 

“Who’s hosting this time?”

“What?” Takashi yelled back, cupping a hand over his ear. “What did you say?”

“ _WHO’S HOSTING?”_ Hide all but shouted into his cupped hand. The music was so loud that Takashi didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded for a moment, his addled brain processing the words and response.

“It’s Satsuki’s!”

Hide did a mental calculation:

_Satsuki = Himuya Satsuki = Female = Takashi’s crush._

So, Takashi was crashing and had invited Hide to tag along.

That being said, the size of the party meant that no one would be able to tell. Hide guessed there were over forty people here just for the sake of the party, not because they had been invited.

In the corners of rooms, groups of kids huddled around a single bong in the hopes of getting high.

Hide was already feeling the effect of the fumes. The idea of being ‘high’ didn’t appeal to him, but he was not going to chicken out and leave the room only an hour after getting here. People were dancing, talking, smoking, and—

Holy shit, did Hide just see someone popping a pill?

No, bad idea. Abort. Abort. Litte pink pills did _not_ tick any of his boxes except ones that screamed _Get the fuck out of there._

“Hey, man—” Hide started, but stopped. How would he say it? How would he, despite hanging around through the stench of pot and drunk youths, decide in an instant to up and leave? Takashi would hate him!

Shit, what would he do?

When it doubt get the fuck outside, Hide boy, he commanded himself.

“I’m going outside!” he shouted to Takashi, who nodded.

“I’ll be dancing!”

Hide nearly ran outside. He had to calm down. He’d grown up in a small town where the idea of anything remotely psychedelic was _bad._ Like, heresy bad. People were shunned. It wasn’t the discrimination that scared Hide—it did, but it wasn’t the main problem—what scared him were _drugs._ The effect of rugs. The business of drugs. The way teeth rotted and hair fell out, the way thirty-year-olds became old men.

It scared the shit out of him.

He sipped at his beer slowly. He wasn’t drunk. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t get drunk. No, he was having at maximum three casual beers, and drinking something cool was a good way to calm down.

At this rate, he’d get a phobia of parties.

A girl in a black dress saw him wandering alone, and grabbed his elbow, pulling into her ring of dancing friends. Hide slid into the act of comfort easily, letting himself get pulled around by her and her friends, decided not to mind the incredibly dangerous dancing they were doing with him and their other male friends despite the worry in his mind. Had these girls taken drugs too? Had everyone in this _house_ taken drugs already?

He shelved the panic. Calm down. Deal with it.

The song ended and he laughed them away, walking off to a quieter area of the back yard. He didn’t feel like dancing. He felt like sitting on another brick wall and watching from a safe distance, he felt like meeting a random stranger who was incredibly beautiful. He wanted that; wanted someone who wasn’t high off their face or wanting to be.

He ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavy. Drug-related crimes, he said, were happening due to the increased route of drug transport. Gangs were getting involved in the manufacturing of narcotics and their distribution, earning them a shit ton of money to support themselves with. It was also all cash money, so no one was there to track transactions. Police members who’d tried to go undercover ended up identified in a second.

Dealers wore masks, sellers wore masks, kids tore theirs off under the effect of their creations, their bones laid bare.

 _“People can ask you to do whatever they want, Hide,”_ his mother would tell him, _“but they’re always doing it for themselves. Your well-being won’t matter. Don’t let yourself be used.”_

His mother. Oh God, how funny it would be if she heard he’d gate-crashed a party because someone had asked him to. She’d probably beat him into next week if she heard he’d gone despite suspecting there would be drugs.

Sometimes he regretted a lot of his choices.

He sighed into his cup, biting at the rim. He _needed_ to calm down. Freaking out would not solve anything. He was young, he was healthy, he could find his way out of this.

A cold presence, like a ghostly breath on the left side of his neck, startled him. His hand slapped to his neck and he glanced in the direction.

He saw no one. Confused, Hide rubbed at his eyes. Maybe he _was_ high off weed, after all.

Opening his eyes, he felt as if he was watching the world go through syrup, slow moving and cast like gold. The air was turning cool with autumn, but with the orange light through his hair, Hide could almost believe it was a summer’s evening. He watched the sway of that glowing hair, the careful, quick movements of his lithe form. Most of all, he watched how those eyes glowed fiercely silver.

Those eyes met Hide’s own wide ones with a similar look of surprise.

He was dressed up to his chin in black, a small backpack slung over his shoulders. A black turtleneck under a slimming black jacket, black pants and a pair of chunky black boots. Black, black, black and then _white._

For an instant, the surprise remained as the world went back to speed for Hide. Then, his face relaxed, sinking into a smirk.

“Don’t get into drugs, Hide,” he said, his voice sarcastic but with an underlying seriousness Hide could see in the redness of his eyes and the dark circles of his eye sockets, the hollows of his cheeks.

“I don’t want to deliver them to you.”

With that, the white-haired boy gave him a thin smile and grabbed the fence with one hand, throwing himself over with ease. Hide watched, unable to speak, to move, to think—

_GO AFTER HIM!_

Hide ran to the fence, jumping up and propping his toes on the cross-board that held up the planks of wood. He threw his drink away and cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting at the white-haired figure rapidly disappearing over neighbouring fences.

“ _I LIKE YOU!”_

As the parting figure jumped over the next fence, he waved into the air.

* * *

 

Hide wanted to smash his head into the wall. It had been two days since then and he still felt embarrassed.

“Is something wrong, Hide?” Sasaki asked, looking away from his notes at the blonde whose cheek was being mashed into the desk. Hide pouted.

“Nothingggg,” he moaned, burying his face on the pages of his notebook.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hide, I don't know how to say this . . . your notes are ruined."  
> "Shit, help me, Haise!"
> 
> Haise spent the whole last five minutes of the lecture spaced-out with a red face after being called by his first name.
> 
>  
> 
> eyyyyy thanks guys for reading yet another chapter! I know, I'm kind of disappointed with how the whole 'meet up' went but BE PATIENT PLEASE I S2G I AM SO PUMPED FOR THE "real one" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°)


	6. This Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weird stuff happens and i literally wrote this at 11pm because i felt like it  
> WARNING: substance abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo two chapters in a day someone give this one a medal
> 
> This one's a lil bit longer than the others with some precious Kaneki because i know everyone loves a little bit of that cinnamon roll.
> 
> completely unbeta'd but i guess you guys are used to that by this stage

_The hit across the jaw sent him stumbling back, blood filling his mouth. “You piece of shit!” she snarled, bloodied fist shaking with anger. “You had one job, Kaneki._ One _. Do you know what that was?”_

_Kaneki knew it. He always seemed to know it, despite screwing up._

_“Be on time, you lazy fuck!”_

_“I’m sorry, Aunt Asaoka—”_

_“Don’t apologise to me, scum,” she snapped, backhanding his face. Kaneki’s mouth was so full of blood he could barely speak. It felt swollen with the metallic, ruby-red liquid as it began to dribble over the basin of his lips. All those old wounds reopening._

_“Your words mean nothing. You’re meant to be on time. I gave you a job out of the goodness of my heart after my sister up and died on me, leaving you to us.” She grabbed him by his hair, the dark strands ripping from his scalp. She pulled him inches her face, her otherwise beautiful features was twisted with rage._

_“Kanek,” she said quietly, throat humming as she spoke in that dangerously low tone. “If I get a complaint about you ever again—_ ever again, _I swear I will send you to Hell. That’s where you belong, Kaneki. In Hell, with my sister and that dreadful man she married. You know that, don’t you? You’re just like him. Trash. You and him pulled her down, you know.”_

_She cast him aside, straightening. “Pretending you’re better than others, just because you can pass a government-made system. You’re the reason she’s dead, Kaneki. You should just die.”_

* * *

 

Kaneki’s eyes opened, eyes staring into the pre-dawn darkness. His throat didn’t feel dry or rough from screaming. That was a good sign.

He rolled over to look in the clock: 4:45AM. Nearly exactly an hour since he went to bed.

It would have to do. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His hair still smelled clean from the shampoo and the way he had scrubbed off his scalp to try and rid of himself of the party smell.

He reached over to the glass of water next to his bed, giving it a short blow over the top to make sure the dust and grime from his cheap, gross ‘dorm’ hadn’t settled on the surface.

Standing, he cracked open the window, looking out onto the cityscape.

That was the one good thing about his room: the view of the city it gave him. The towering heights of skyscrapers, the constant glow that reminded him someone, somewhere, hadn’t slept as much as he had that night.

They may sleep through the day, but at least he’d beaten them on the night hours thing.

He flicked the switch to his lap, illuminating the notes he’d set down before he left to work. He pulled out a cigarette from his ever-present packet and lit it, holding it between his teeth while he scanned the notebook.

* * *

 

Hide often wondered how Haise did it. The pale-haired boy looked clean and scrubbed up, his face full and clear as he shuffled the pages of his notes at _9AM on Monday morning._

“Haise,” Hide croaked, “are you human?”

“What?” asked the boy, deer eyes looking up. “What do you mean?”

Hide stared for a long time, mouth agape, before he sullenly sat down. “It’s nine o’clock on _Monday_ and I have to sit through a Creative Writing class?”

“Ah . . .” Haise murmured, trying to be sympathetic. “I’m sorry that I can’t help more.”

Hide shook his head vehemently, nearly taking the boy’s hands in his own to emphasise his point. “Don’t be,” Hide regarded him straight in those steel eyes. “It’s out of your control. Besides, you’re the only reason I look forward to this class.”

It took Hide a second too long to realise why they’d lapsed into silence.

“Haise! Hey, Haise! Calm down!” Hide fanned Haise’s face, sighing.

Haise chewed at his lip and set his pen down. “So, uh . . . you have a good weekend?”

“Yeah, thanks. No awkward parties, no awkward, high yelling. None. I had a great weekend. My parents called and bitched at me, my friend Takashi also called and bitched at me”—Takashi make eye-contact with him, two rows down, and Hide pointed at him angrily—“for not going to this ‘sick as party, bro’, and yeah. I did some work and regretted my choices in general.”

Haise seemed solidly entertained, leaning onto his hand. Hide noticed his eyelids droop for a _second_ too long before he looked up again. “More lively than mine.”

“Really? You look kind of tired.”

“What?” Haise sat bolt upright. “No, no. I’m not. It’s just Mondays. Basically all I did was write essays and practical reports.”

“That’s rough, buddy,” Hide agreed. He watched the lecturer hurry into the room, throw around books and plug in a computer. “I was writing my Journalism article.”

“What on?”

Haise was very talkative today, Hide noticed.

“Drug-related crimes and their increase.”

“What, so like, narcotics, or stimulants, or suppressants like weed and—”

“Whoa, he never specified that.”

Haise’s face went pale.

“Are you okay, dude? You seem a bit . . . off.”

“What? No, I’m fine.” Haise’s hands were shaking as he took notes.

“Give me a look at your face.”

“Whaaa—?” Haise’s face was still red as Hide grabbed his cheeks, startled by how prominent his cheekbones were. Hide squinted, staring at Haise’s eyes.

There was no reddening of the eyelids, but the actual eyeball was heavily veined. It almost as if—

“Haise,” Hide said, very seriously. “Are you high?”

Haise, for the briefest second, looked terrified. He pouted, glancing sideways. “No . . .”

“Holy shit, you’re fucking tanked.”

“I’m not!” Haise hissed, insistent. He pulled his face away, but Hide could see it now: the redness of his eyes, the fatigue in his actions, his boldness. Haise wasn’t usually like this.

Hide glanced down at his empty hands, which felt powdery. Huh?

“You’re fucking high and attempting to sit through a class. What kind of shit _did_ you do this weekend?”

“Nothing. I sat in my dorm and worked whilst my roommate bitched at me.”

“Roommate?”

“Yeah,” Haise pouted. “She hates me at the moment.”

“So, what, you pulled out some pot and puffed away?”

“I didn’t!”

“Haise, I can spell pot on your breath from here. You may have had like, thirty coffees to try and cancel that shit out, but I can see it from a distance.”

Haise sighed. “I’m telling you—”

“Oh, Hide, yes, I felt so sad and alone last night that I just whipped out a bowl and puffed away like the hipster I am!” Hide gasped in mock-surprise. “I was so ashamed that I tried to hide it, but I couldn’t, and being high confuses me so.”

Haise didn’t look impressed.

Hide laughed it off, slapping him on the back. Haise must have been a space cadet at that point, because he didn’t even flinch the way he usually did. “Wanna skip class?”

“ _Yes.”_

* * *

 

Hide munched on a brownie while Haise downed his third cup of coffee since they’d sat down. Honestly, the guy was going to explode.

They’d stopped at a small student-run diner at the edge of the campus which offered free coffee refills. Hide wasn’t really that hungry but decided to go there anyway. Around them, other student groups had formed, doing group tasks.

“I really didn’t peg you as someone that would smoke pot,” Hide confessed. “Honestly, I thought I’d do it sooner than you.”

Haise have a cheeky, cheeky smile, obviously over being sprung. He wriggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I am a man of mystery, oh, ho, ho.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Sasaki Haise?”

Haise downed the last of his coffee. “The high should wear off in around”—Haise checked his watch—“ten minutes. Then I’ll just be ashamed and disappointed in myself, so let’s have a fun chat while we can.”

“Wow, that was pretty deep,” Hide leaned against his hand, observing this new Haise. It wasn’t that Hide supported using drugs, but Haise seemed a lot more . . . free like this. It almost made Hide sick to think that maybe there was something good in it.

 _Shut up,_ he told himself, _you don’t know what’s good for him._

“Hey, Hide,” Haise’s big deer eyes were pleading and genuine in a puppy dog kind of way. “Um . . . is this annoying? Am I annoying you? I’m being a bother, aren’t I? I’m really sorry. Really.”

Wow, that emotional turn around was really fast.

“Nah, man. Any excuse to skip class is good enough, even if your best friend is high as balls.”

Haise, who would normally have gone bright red at this point, stared him in the eye with steel Hide wasn’t accustomed to seeing. “I’m your best friend?”

“Ah—well, um, that is . . .” Hide scratched at his cheek, trying to find a less embarrassing way to deal with this. He’d blown it now, hadn’t he?

Hide sighed. “Yeah. You are. That probably shouldn’t be embarrassing but, you know . . . it kind of says a lot, since we don’t hang out or have each other’s phone numbers, or do stuff.”

Haise hailed over the waitress for a refill. The brunette looked concerned, but Haise waved it off. “It’s fine. I was up all night.”

The waitress looked to him and Hide mouthed ‘high as fuck’.

The girl got the cue and skedaddled the shit out of there.

“You go to parties all the time with other friends, though,” Haise said, blowing steam off his black coffee. “Aren’t they best friend material?”

“Yeah, but . . . they’re kind more, like . . . acquaintances. I’ll remember their names and the shit we did, but not really why I liked them. I hang out with Takashi because we both came from the same high school and our families know each other, but we’re not very close. He basically invites me to crash parties so he doesn’t feel as bad about going alone.”

“I see.” Haise was calm. “Do you want my number then?”

“What? Can I really?” Hide nearly jumped out of his seat in excitement. Haise nodded.

“Yeah, and gimme yours. I’ll send you random texts at four in the morning.”

“Haise, how many bowls did you smoke?”

“I was asked to try—” Haise’s voice cut off suddenly as if strangled. He coughed heavily into his sleeve. “Sorry,” he wheezed before coughing again. He swallowed before continuing, “Yes, well. I had two.”

“Two what?”

“Two goes, Hide.”

Hide scratched his head in confusion. “Like, two puffs? And you’re this high?”

“Two whole bowls,” Haise clarified. He was so open and carefree about it that Hide found it hard to fathom this boy and the one he was so accustomed to seeing was the same person. Is this what drugs did?

“Phew,” Hide breathed out. “I have no idea how much that is, but I’m going to guess it’s a lot. How long ago was this?”

“I don’t remember,” Haise said numbly. He scrolled through his phone until he pulled up his own number. “Here,” he said, passing to Hide.

“Wow, what are we, dating?” Hide joked, and Haise laughed.

Haise fucking laughed and it was the most beautiful thing Hide had ever heard in his life.

“Hide? Hey, earth to Hide?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’ll send you a text, so add my number.”

Haise swirled his coffee and then downed it in one gulp. “Hide,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“What month is it?”

Hide raised an eyebrow, sceptical of the determination in Haise’s expression. “It’s nearly the end of Autumn. What month does that make it?”

“It’s _November?”_

There were very few times in Hide’s life where he could say that he had seen that mixture of equal parts surprise and terror. One of them when his aunt had been given her diagnosis: she’d read the paper slowly, eyes wide and empty until it filled with the unquenchable terror.

“Yeah,” Hide said, voice gentle. “It’s meant to snow this Friday.”

“Huh,” Haise tapped the screen of his phone, adding Hide as a contact. Hide noticed the fog that seemed to settle, as if Haise were lost in a high-induced memory. “Snow.”

* * *

 

By the time Haise had downed his sixth cup of coffee, he was off his high. It astounded Hide how quick the entire ordeal seemed to be over. Their Creative Writing class wouldn’t have finished yet.

“I’m really sorry,” Haise said quietly. “For everything. I must have been such a both—I even pulled you out of class!”

“Like I said, that class is dead boring,” Hide said. “I have to do it as part of Journalism, though. That sucks.”

Haise still looked ashamed of himself. “Let me make it up to you!”

“Haise, you don’t owe me anything,” Hide said, smiling. “All we did was skip class, anyway.”

“But, I took time out of your learning, I hassled you for your number, and so much other things—”

“Haise, seriously. I’m not angry, I’m glad you’re okay. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I got to hang out with you, eat a brownie, get your _number_ —which I’m still pleased with myself about—and you were a pretty funny space cadet.”

Haise still looked deflated. “I’m really sorry.”

Hide pet his shoulder roughly, causing Haise to jump. “Well, I did get some _funny_ blackmail material, I guess . . . looks like you’re stuck being my friend or else I’ll just . . . release it out, maybe . . .”

Haise’s face, slowly, melted into a relieved smile. “I guess.”

* * *

 

_It was snowing. He watched delicate petals of ice fall down around him, silent. They stroked at his cheeks, icy cool, washed away the blood._

_It was soothing, the cold. From the ground, pushing into the soles of his feet and from above, twinkling down like flakes of fallen stars, caressing his every wound. He could feel them closing, the familiar sting of knitting fibres._

_The neighbourhood behind was forgotten. At that moment, alone in the dark, being swallowed up by the cold, he swore he would forget it. Forget everything that came before this year, everything since the last snowfall. His life was measured out in snowflakes._

_He would not have an unloving family, he would not have a lonely past. No, he was just the boy in the snow. He would live, ugly and continuously, until he had completed what he swore to do._

_He would rid the world of the man that had ruined everything._

_He stared down at his hands, the nails so used to having to spring back they had grown black, the keratin now heavily infused with dark, clotted blood. He’d paint them, every day, to make sure no one ever saw. He’d wear a hat. He’d hide his scars from himself._

_And when he was done, he could stop counting snowfalls._

* * *

 

“Nagachika, you’re pretty spaced out today.”

It was Amon, standing above him in his CCG suit—which was only marginally different than his lecturer suit.

“Sorry, Amon. Just wasting away here, no files to rush off, no one to interview.”

Amon shook his head. “You kids—and you especially. Why are you always late? School is important, you know. Akira even said she saw you ditching class today. Do you want to be a bum, Hide? Your parents pay for your boarding here, don’t wallow in their expenditure, young man.”

Hide held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, now. I’m usually late against my will, Amon. I’m always sorry about that, really. And today was . . . my friend needed help. Like, in that instant. I’m also on a scholarship, so . . .”

Amon huffed. “Anyways,” he said, throwing down a case file onto Hide’s desk. “The director was wondering if you’d like to help out with the case we’re doing.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Hide’s interest was piqued instantly.

“The GLG have been spotted making transactions in various nightclubs near the University sector,” said Amon. “Director Washuu wants to see if you can work undercover.”

“Will that mean that you don’t yell at me every time I’m late?”

Amon crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe.”

“Sign me up, sir yessir!”

* * *

 

“The CCG have been onto our deals in the nightclubs,” Uta said, scrolling through his phone. “I’m going to put you on Eto’s team for now to distract them, since they seem to know you the best.”

“Is Eto undercover during these?” Kaneki was reading a book he’d found in Uta’s ‘private collection’. That usually translated to books he’d stolen from the sad girls he’d had one-night stands with. Uta was weird in that kind of way.

“Yeah,” said Uta. “You know how young she looks and all. I’ll send that Furuta guy as well. Oh, he also says he has a lead in the 6th ward and he’d like to discuss it with you. I figured nightclubs are pretty safe.”

“Yes, please,” Kaneki said. He reached for one of Uta’s cigarettes.

“Good. Your first job is tomorrow night. We’re meeting this guy that wants to redistribute our crack.”

“How much?”

“He wants thirty kilos, but I think we’ll give him twenty-five, because I don’t like him,” Uta showed a picture to Kaneki of a man with dark hair and slim build. “Looks dodgy, doesn’t he?”

“Looks like a sad sack of shit,” Kaneki agreed. “You think he has the cash?”

“Well, that’s why we’re sending you and Eto. If she doesn’t beat him up. If he gets himself jacked up before that, well, like I said: that’s why we have you there.”

“I see.”

Uta put down his phone. “Who’s the new kid you’ve been hanging around with?”

“Who?” Kaneki was fairly sure he knew where this was going.

“Itori tells me she saw you making out with some blondy at that party we went to a few months back.”

“Yeah, he looked only marginally more pathetic than I did so I kissed him.”

“Nice,” Uta said. He took the book from Kaneki and chucked him a lighter. Kaneki accepted it with a nod of thanks.

“Want to test out the crack? I’m not sure about this bunch after the new lot came in. Clearly our supplies aren’t as good as we thought Aogiri’s way.”

Aogiri was the smaller band of dealers GLG had formed an agreement with to distribute the drugs they produced. Eto was in charge of them. Despite her small size, Kaneki had never met anyone more cunning.

“How much?”

“I’ll give you five hundred per lot. There are twelve.”

“I guess there are worse overtime shifts. Yeah, I can. I’ll crash here tonight, though.”

Looks like there’d be no school for him, tomorrow.

* * *

 

_“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” Kaneki could help but say it. Watching the party below, he couldn’t see the attraction of being surrounded by hundreds of bodies, all mindlessly dancing and writhing, almost like they were in pain._

_But the party wasn’t the saddest part. He’d sat down next to a blonde boy around his age, if not slightly older, with bleached hair and freckles you only got from living in the country. It was something that Kaneki had always wondered about._

_The boy sat alone. His caramel eyes were lost._

_“Um, I guess? Hi, I’m Hide.”_

_“Kaneki.”_

_He wondered what ‘Hide’ was short for. What kind of guy would introduce themselves by a nickname? What was the point of a nickname if you were called it by everyone? Did names have any meaning at all?_

_What would he know, anyway?_

_“That was a pretty philosophical statement, buddy,” Hide said. Kaneki could hear the discomfort from his voice, but there was something else in there. Something that didn’t make Kaneki want to leave._

_Something that made Hide different._

_“I try to avoid being too thoughtful,” he admitted. It was true. The deeper he hung around in thoughts, the harder it was to keep to what he had promised himself nearly a year ago. Sourly, he crushed his cigarette in his palm, ignoring the sting. “Makes you too aware of the situation.”_

_“Jeez, how many bowls have you had today?” Hide laughed._

_It was light-hearted, the statement. Almost funny. Kaneki felt his lips curl. He turned towards Hide, examining him up and down: dark, caramel eyes, blonde hair that had been bleached orange, freckles, and so much_ life _in his eyes._

_Such lonely eyes._

_“Not enough, clearly,” he said dryly._

_Hide shrugged. “To each his own. Forensic Science. You?” His gaze was inquisitive and gut-wrenchingly innocent._

_“Literature.”_

_“Holy shit, you_ are _am Arts Student!” Hide clapped a palm over his chest in mock surprise. “This explains it all!”_

_Kaneki scoffed, looking back at the party. Somehow, it seemed less sad and more pitiful to him, now. Pitiful because he could relate in some dark, twisted way to the desire to dance around and fuck up your body from the inside._

_Except that would never happen to him._

_Kaneki heard the distant wail of police sirens. In the crowd, he saw Touka give the signal: Scatter._

_“Do you believe in ghosts?” Kaneki whispered before he could stop himself._

_He turned back to Hide. The boy was unique in a way that isolated him from others. He stared back at Kaneki with wide, entranced eyes. Kaneki felt his stomach churn. What was this? Why wasn’t he thoroughly disturbed?_

_Why hadn’t the kid run to the cops and screamed, ‘There’s a murderer at this party! Get him, please! Save me!’ Why hadn’t he?_

_Kaneki took a moment, examining once again the haze in his eyes and the pinkness on his cheeks, sitting right at the curve of his cheekbones. His lips were soft and full, only slightly chapped in the student’s typical bad lifestyle._

_Hide wasn’t involved with Kaneki’s trade; he wasn’t involved with Kaneki’s demons or life or anything._

_Leaning forward, he grabbed Hide’s collar and pulled their mouths together. Something felt so brilliantly_ right _in doing so. He couldn’t sense any disgust from the other at all._

_Greedily he kissed him, teeth clacking and hands running through Hide’s hair. He licked at Hide’s lip, nearly pushing himself in freely. Kaneki had never realised how fulfilling the desire for affection could be._

_It was alarming._

_The sirens of the police were close, now. He had to make his exit. He pulled away, taking a moment to etch the face into his memory. The face of the strange, lonely boy._

_Maybe when he died, the forensic scientist could chop him up and realise where Kanou had screwed him over. Kaneki wouldn’t hate that._

_He smiled. Maybe it was morbid, but it was the nicest thing Kaneki had thought in a long time, like the briefest glimmer of a starved candle in the dark that was the inside of Kaneki Ken._

_He took a final second to appreciate the face he left before he jumped off the fence and ran._

_He ran, and ran, and ran._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your comments and kudos! They literally brighten my day so much I can't thank you guys enough!


	7. A State of Clear Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things actually progress in a single chapter oh my

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo! thanks to everyone that always leaves some good comments, I really appreciate them :D  
> please enjoy!~

Kaneki blinked, groggily coming to. His held a splitting headache and he could tell from the acidic taste on the back of his tongue and the burn running down the length of his throat that his heart had stopped at some point.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Was it wrong he was so used to being high that his distorted vision no longer even affected him?

He pulled out his phone and texted Uta: “ _Number 3 has been spiked with cyanide.”_

Aogiri had supplied them with dangerous goods? What did that mean?

* * *

 

“Oi, Trashika, get the fuck up!”

Hide groaned in protest, but he was already being—quite literally—booted out of bed by his flatmate and senior, Nishio Nishiki.

“Your lecture starts in ten minutes, and I’m inviting Kimi over. Scoot.”

He was tall, with strawberry-blonde hair that seemed to naturally swirl across his face. That, accompanied with his narrow eyes and sour face made up his character pretty accurately. His great talent was indeed to look down on people.

Hide liked to believe he was a gem underneath.

Really, he liked to.

Kimi, his girlfriend, was probably the worst match Hide had ever seen, but there was something about them so opposite that they couldn’t help but attract: Kimi was quiet, reserved, and just all around timid and nice.

Nishiki was the perfect example of arsehole, on the other hand.

Hide didn’t like to think bad of people, so he saw the way he acted around her as who he really was, and Hide was touched, sometimes, by how caring the douche could be.

Of course, when he realised Hide had seen glimpses into his tender, young heart, he kicked the kid out.

This was why he had been sent out during the times Kimi came over. That, and the fact that they were really loud when they went at it.

Nishiki was a third-year whose last roommate had moved out due to changing campus, and so the room was up. The two-people rooms were far cheaper than one-man, and Hide had applied for it instantly. He wanted to live the college student dream: stay up late with roommates, go out to parties together, live the party life.

His plans were pretty crushed when he got there. He knew that, but he kept hoping one day Nishiki would actually ask him if they wanted to hang out one day rather than fighting to get to the coffee machine first in the morning.

“I’m awake,” Hide grumbled from the floor. “And I’m leaving. Please stop kicking me.”

Nishiki had been tapping Hide’s side with his foot until he’d replied. “Good.”

Hide listened to his footsteps move away, before blurting, “Do you know Sasaki Haise?”

Sitting up, he saw the confusion on Nishio’s face. “Who?”

* * *

 

Haise wasn’t in Creative Writing that Monday.

Hide didn’t see Haise at all at campus.

 _Dude where r u?_ he’d texted the same thing many times, but had yet to have a response. He knew he had the right number. He knew, so why was Haise avoiding him?

_Yo, he gave us notes today about the play script. I made a copy for you. Are you sick? Do you want me bring them over?_

An hour ticked by. Then another, then another.

“Nagachika, you’re pretty lost-looking.”

Hide hadn’t even been paying attention to his workplace. Amon was watching him from his desk, his huge form hulked over the small keyboard whilst Akira paced back and forth, collecting papers from the printer and depositing them on her desk. Takizawa, even, had been watching him from his desk directly opposite Hide.

“Yeah,” Hide admitted. “My best friend wasn’t at school today and I’m not sure why. I’ve tried texting him but the guy hasn’t replied.”

“Maybe he actually despises you,” Akira said loosely, walking back to his desk. “Is he reserved in your presence? Is he always doing something else and avoiding eye-contact? Is he hesitant when he speaks? These are all indications that he is uncomfortable around you, Nagachika.”

“Just because he looks it doesn’t mean he is!” Hide sat up, pouting. “He even came and sat with me by choice!”

“Jesus, Hide. How long have you known this guy?” Takizawa was slouching against his palm, tired on a Monday. “It seems like you’re his carer or something. ‘Oh, he even replied to me today! He’s come so far!’”

Takizawa Seidou, Hide was sure, kind of love-hated him in the way they loved each other for the beef and banter they could have. It was fairly mutual.

“What’s his name?” Amon joined in. “I’m eager to see what he looks like.”

Ah, Amon’s parental side. “His name is Sasaki Haise. Look him up on the database. You can, can’t you, Amon? I mean, you should have access to it all, because you’re a professor and all.”

Amon clicked around for a bit before Hide heard him type something. “This guy? It’s the only one listed.”

Amon swivelled the computer around, and Hide stared at a stranger’s photo.

* * *

 

 _“So what was that text about?”_ Uta was on the phone with him, now. Kaneki’s headache had all but subsided. He’d trialled the rest of the packets but found only the third batch spiked.

“I tried the first two, and they were fine as always. After I tried the third one I blacked out for a second, since my heart shut down.”

“ _Well, that was Aogiri’s addition to the week.”_

“They’re all Aogiri’s, aren’t they?”

“ _What? No,”_ Uta didn’t seem impressed. “ _Batch one and two came from a new group down in the 11 th ward, batch three from Aogiri, batch four from the Blades down near Aogiri, and batch four and five are from small-time dealers who agreed to sell it to me cheaper.”_

“After you threatened to knife them,” Kaneki finished. He heard Uta’s grunt of assent on the end of the line.

“ _I’m getting a bit curious about Aogiri. I heard a rumour the other day they were stirring up trouble with other gangs. Trying to make them join. Itori thinks that they want to fight us to be the controlling gang.”_

“That’s ridiculous,” Kaneki said, picking up a few grains of the shit he’d just ingested and pressing it to his tongue absently.

He fucking hated being high.

And he _fucking_ hated drugs.

“ _You’re telling me,”_ Uta muttered. Kaneki heard some rustling and a woman’s voice. Ah, so that’s what Uta had been up to all night.

_“But yeah. I heard that the White Suits are mobilising, and that Aogiri is convincing smaller groups all over Tokyo. If this continues, we may have a slight problem.”_

“What are they going to do? Fight us? Sell drugs faster? Do they not realise that it takes time to get strong enough to pose a threat?”

“ _Don’t underestimate Eto and her lot,”_ Uta said offhandedly. _“You know how sneaky she is. She’s as strong in her mind as her old man was in body.”_

 _“_ And we all know how well that turned out for _him_.”

Uta scoffed on the other end of the line. “ _Okay, well, I’ll see you later for the job. Anything happen around there?”_

“Nah. Only one death.” His own.

“ _Nice. Do try and stay alive before the job. You know how picky Eto is.”_

* * *

 

The boy in the picture had bleached-blonde hair, with the same thick-framed glasses, but he wasn’t Sasaki. For one, Haise’s hair was _much_ less yellow than that—who was he trying to be, Hide?—and his face was much longer and thinner. His eyes were dark, along with his eyebrows—the natural colour of his hair. He wore no hat, as was required for ID photos. His skin held some colour to it, and there was something so much more boring about the boy he stared at.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Hide said brightly. “He’s dyed his hair again since then, but that’s the guy.”

_What the hell is this? That’s the only Sasaki listed?_

“He takes Literature, Creative Writing, Chemical Engineering and Philosophy.”

_The subjects are correct, so why . . . ?_

“That’s him, all right.”

“Your friend must be pretty smart if Kamii let him take four subjects,” Amon said. He smirked, “so how did he end up with you?”

Hide shrugged. “I have quite the charm, you know.”

“The same charm as a chewed-up old shoe,” Takizawa scoffed.

“One that needs to be thrown into the bin asap,” Akira finished.

Hide stared around the room. He knew they were trying to lighten the mood, but Hide still felt put off by that picture. He smiled, flashing his teeth and turning up the wattage. “But that shoe was chewed by a very cute dog.”

Akira stood up suddenly, making Hide jump. “Hide,” she said, “you’re due to head out soon. There’s a nightclub in the University sector we want you posted at.”

Hide saluted. “You wish is my command, sir yessir!”

Akira sighed. “I don’t know what your plan is, but get dressed in something more . . . _clubby_ than that. I’ll brief you when you return.”

Hide hurried out of the room.

* * *

 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Kaneki Ken,” Eto was smiling. Her short, pale hair was messy as always. She had a medical mask pushed down off her mouth for the meeting. Tyical of Aogiri’s style, she wore a dark cloak-style jacket over black clothing. Kaneki was dressed as he usually was: black up to the chin.

“Eto,” he greeted. He was _solidly_ not high anymore, not from weed and not from coke.

“ _Someone_ ’s in a good mood,” she joked, giggling to herself. She was often like that, amused by only herself. She dropped her small frame into one of the bar stools and leaned over the counter, leaving Kaneki standing awkwardly alone.

“Read any good books lately, Kaneki?”

“Not really. I’ve been reading all the set material for university,” he admitted. “I heard Takatsuki Sen’s new book came out and I’ve been meaning to get to it.” He gave her a subtle glare from the corner of his eye, watching her grin.

“Yes, it did. She has a press conference about that book in a few days. Better make sure I don’t reek of gang bars and drugs by then, hmm?”

Kaneki sometimes hated the way she was so positive about the whole thing. He quietly detested the way she could plan out her life for decades after today.

“Living two lives is hard,” Eto sighed, leaning back on the counter. “I guess you would know, wouldn’t you?”

Eto was always good with facts like that. Kaneki didn’t really mind, though. He assumed everyone except the innocent rich kids at Kamii knew. “Not really. The hardest part is remembering who you killed to get there.”

“Bingo!” Eto giggled. “That’s the Kaneki I know!”

“Did you not recognise me?” the more Kaneki talked, the more he realised his voice flat-lined. He walked behind the bar to busy himself, cleaning the glasses. It had been months since he last did the drinks shift, ever since Uta had assigned him to three groups instead of two.

“You’ve been pretty happy recently,” Eto admitted, leaning forward on the counter, her head resting in her palms. “That constant despair in those glassy eyes has become hidden behind a curtain. It pains me to lose such a good source!”

“Ha,” Kaneki snorted. “Maybe that’s because Uta has me doing _all_ the drug testing now. Speaking of which, Eto, Aogiri delivered a certain dangerous good the other day.”

Eto’s smile only grew. “Did you like it?”

_So she planned it. Who else planned it? Uta? Itori?_

“I blacked out for a solid thirty seconds,” Kaneki admitted. “Your group is getting better at lethal poisons.”

Eto’s eyes were lit with that scheming flame Kaneki long associated with power. “Did we, now?”

Kaneki knew he was good at picking up on cues. After living with paranoia for so long, he’d started to find the changes in tone, inflection in the pitch of one’s voice. Eto was fairly obvious about it, but he put together the dots in an instant.

“Ah, so you’re working with all the gangs that we received coke from,” Kaneki said, thoughtfully. “A mixture to create a nice fatal cocktail just for me? I’m touched.”

“It’s an early birthday present,” Eto grinned. “We all _know_ how much you _adore_ dying, so we thought we’d make sure it got pretty good.”

“I’m assuming you’re well aware of how I do things, then. You were certain that the chemicals would still be in my system for long enough to react with the cyanide.”

“And so, Mr Chemical Engineer, what are your thoughts?”

Kaneki smiled thinly. “That’s for me to know, Eto.”

She laughed, leaning into her hands. “You’re a funny one, dear little Kaneki. I wonder, have you thought about my proposition?”

_Join Aogiri, Kaneki. Join us, and I’ll help you find Kanou. I’ll let you kill him. You trust me, don’t you, Kaneki? You know I won’t lie about it. You kill him, and then you’ll be complete. Then you can go and do whatever you want. You want to be free, don’t you? Free of your curse? Of your fears? Of your job?_

_You hate it, don’t you? Everything?_

_Don’t you want to watch the world burn, too?_

“I’ve thought about it,” Kaneki said, pouring himself a glass of water. “And I’m still going to decline. Besides, I made a deal with Garden already.”

Eto pouted. “Choosing shady old men over me!”

Kaneki shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’m a shady old man?” Furuta had appeared in the room.

“Yes.”

They’d spoken in unison.

* * *

 

Hide felt embarrassed when he dragged himself out of the change rooms. He’d found a black dress shirt and tucked it into a pair of dark skinny jeans. He’d combed back his hair (a little, since it never had any real effect) and wore a pair of white dress shoes.

The whole black and white thing really put him off.

Akira gave him a good scan, pale eyes scrutinizing him. “You’ll pass,” she admitted, “barely.”

“Says the lady not coming with me,” Hide said, grinning.

Akira didn’t look amused. “It’s not good to have too many people at once. Anyway, here is your mic.” She handed him a small ear-plug. “When in doubt, tap it and start talking. Because it’s inside your ear, it will pick up the vibrations through the bone rather than the music outside. If you think you’re in danger, phone for back up _straight away,_ Nagachika. Straight away. Amon, Takizawa and I will be on standby until the mission is over.”

“And when’s that?”

“You’re in there for a maximum of six hours.”

Hide swallowed. “I like to believe that I can make six hours useful, but—”

“There is no binding you to that time,” Amon spoke up. His voice was earnest and full of concern. “If you can even find one small thing, you can come out. There’s no reason for you to stay too long.”

“But what if I _do_ see something, but stay in to see how it goes?”

“You can tell us.” Akira tapped at her ear. “As long as you don’t say the safe word, all communications will be rallied to us, and we won’t mobilize.”

“What’s the safeword?”

“You can choose it,” Amon said.

Hide could already feel it burning on the tip of his tongue.

“Ghoul,” he said.

* * *

 

The nightclub was fairly empty in the early evening. The barmen were sweeping, the performers were laughing and chatting, and Eto was behind the door with the owner, bargaining for a better price.

She’d told them, _if you hear a commotion, come in straight away and just go for the kill. Don’t even worry about whether you were wrong. There’s no harm in killing this guy._

She was right, of course. The secondary owner was an Aogiri member, and anything that would get her more power was a plus.

“Uta said you have leads for me,” Kaneki said, breaking the silence. He didn’t look across at his partner. Both of their gazes were fixed straight ahead, observing the quiet nightclub.

“Yes,” said Furuta, voice silky. “I did indeed.”

“So?” Kaneki prompted. “What kind?”

“Around the farthest reaches of the city is a CCG-owned property that used to belong to the Yasuhisa family, prominent in the CCG. Now, Kaneki, I’m sure you know that Kanou was ex-CCG, right?”

“I do, yes.” The words felt sour on Kaneki’s tongue.

Furuta hummed in ascent. “We recently tracked down a suspected link to Kanou going over that way. A girl, maybe your age. She has long, dark hair and a pretty blank face.”

“Was she alone?” Kaneki felt the sinking feeling form in his gut. Soon, it would begin to sting, and Kaneki knew he would be enraged.

“Yes,” Furuta said. “Throughout the entire time we tracked her, she was alone.”

Kaneki fell silent. No, it couldn’t be. There was no way she would be alone for more than thirty seconds at a time. “What clothes was she wearing?”

Furuta shifted next to him. “A dark cloak, fairly standard except for the red circular pattern on the hood.”

 _Shit._ Kaneki’s every nerve stung with anger. It _was_ her.

“She’s connected,” Kaneki said. “We should go check that place out.”

“When would suit?” Furuta asked. “Who do you want to bring?”

“I can organise a small group of around four. You can get maybe three others. Tomorrow night. We’re going.”

Furuta laughed sharply. “You don’t beat around the bush, Kaneki. Do you know this girl? What should we do about her?”

“Make sure she’s alone,” Kaneki said. He watched as people began to file in. The nightclub had opened. “She’s usually accompanied by her partner. Together, they’re a problem. Alone they’re weak.”

“Seems interesting,” Furuta said. Kaneki heard the smile on his words like oil slicked over ground. “I wonder if you’ll tell me about them.”

“Maybe when they’re dead.”

The lights dimmed, and the crowd grew. The music started. Lights came on. Drinks were served. He watched the crowd sceptically. No one seemed to notice them where they were, removed from the dance floor. The room behind them was silent.

“You’re deceptively calm, _Mr Kaneki,_ ” Furuta drawled. His hands were clasped in front of him, relaxed but ready to act like the guard he was. Kaneki stood similarly. Both men were garbed in black, but Furuta’s taller fame made Kaneki look like the easier target.

Kaneki was fine with that.

“I am very calm,” Kaneki assured, very aware of the knives tucked into his belt and the ankle part of his boots. He felt the weight of the small emergency handgun in his pocket, pressing against his ribs. “Why would I not be?”

Kaneki had given Furuta a once-over before they arrived, and was able to locate a gun on either side of the man’s waist, but no other weaponry. Despite this, Kaneki was sure he’d hidden away his own stash.

That was something Kaneki knew: the more the better. Shit could get bad fast.

He heard the pulling back of lips in a smile. Kaneki did his best not to react to the sound of the saliva-filled grin. “Your eyes become progressively brighter the angrier they get, have you noticed that?”

“I’d be lying if I hadn’t,” Kaneki said. “I’d also be lying if I said I believed a word you said.”

“Oh, I love these games.” Furuta’s voice was level. “Which is the lie, hmm?”

“It’s not a game at all,” Kaneki said.

“Life’s a game.”

“Oh yeah? What do I get if I win?”

Furuta laughed, loudly and bitterly.

“There’s no prize for living.”

* * *

 

Hide felt like a child on his first day of school. Except he was nineteen years old, and his parents consisted of his work colleagues who were giving him thumbs up so that he didn’t _die._

Yeah. That was a possibility.

Standing in line, he swallowed hard. It wasn’t like he’d never been to a club before. No, he’d been before. The sky was dark, and the line was boisterous with people who were still wasted off pres.

The bouncer was a tall man with swirling beard on his chin. Hide swallowed, not making eye-contact. Even though the bouncer didn't emanate that sense of _punk-what-you-doing-here-imma-kill-you-lil’-shit,_ Hide still felt nervous.

Slowly, he approached the font of the line. He had his ID ready in his hand, one that would say yes, he was nineteen, he was a legal adult and could be entering.

“Are you okay?” the bouncer asked.

Hide had to crane his neck back to look the huge bouncer in face. His eyes were kind despite his large frame. Hide nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yeah I am. It’s just . . . I’m meant to be, um . . .” _make up something, quick!_

“I’m meant to be meeting someone in there,” Hide said. “I’m kind of nervous.”

The bouncer smiled, giving Hide’s shoulder a pat. It was weirdly comforting. Hide squinted, trying to read his ID which was pinned to his breast pocket:

_Banjou._

“Thanks,” Hide said, anxiety levelling.

Banjou smiled. “Okay, you can head in.”

* * *

 

“Eto sure takes her time,” Furuta mused, watching the people in the same way Kaneki had been. Every now and then, Kaneki would steal a glance from the corner of his eye, and see the man standing stoically, if not smugly, as he observed the wider human race.

Kaneki shrugged. “She’s a fussy woman.”

“What was the proposition she offered?” Furuta asked. “I heard you two talking when I came in.”

“Ah,” Kaneki said. “She wants me to join her group.”

“But aren’t you already part of the Ghouls?”

Kaneki shook his head. “I’ve never officially joined. I work as a hired hit man, bodyguard and tester. Although I’m basically part of the group, I don’t have the fancy shit that makes me theirs.”

“Uta seems pretty possessive of you.”

_God, he’s sure curious. Doesn’t he know that by sticking his nose in someone will chop it off for him?_

Kaneki shrugged. “I guess he would. I _am_ an object, after all.”

“That’s a little disappointing,” Furuta admitted. “I would have thought you were more . . .”

His words faded into a buzzing jumble as Kaneki’s eyes focused on the patrons entering through the main door. His gaze froze on that familiar head of bleached hair, badly outgrown, combed back and his face freshened up. God, what a bad time.

He’d dressed nice for the club, Kaneki could see. The CCG must have sent him. Kaneki didn’t think that _he_ would end up in a club quite this shady on his own if he had chosen.

He could only watch as the boy, after his few moments of disorientation, drew himself over to the bar and instantly got in conversation with a girl sitting there. Kaneki breathed a sigh of relief. Standing out wasn’t a good idea in a place like this.

“Kaneki?” Furuta prompted. “What, is all the drugs going to your brain?”

“I wish,” Kaneki muttered. Furuta fell silent after that.

Kaneki’s eyes never stopped watching Hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, i hope youse all liked that one. 
> 
> So, I'm thinking I'll try and post every second day instead so that I can stretch out the chapters a bit more. I just personally feel like that's easier for me, and it makes it easier to have some action in a chapter so that y'all can enjoy.
> 
> eeeek so pumped for next chapter (and I'm the writer lol). 
> 
> thanks for reading!


	8. Cerulean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hxuoygdsbxujahsgdcbujsadbxn enjoy pls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I SAID EVERY TWO DAYS BUT LEGIT I WROTE THIS AND HAD TO POST IT THANKS

“What’s a young thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Hide had sat down at the bar, where he fell into conversation with a woman. She had long, dark hair that glowed purple under the neon lights. Her eyes were angular and reminiscent of a cat, right down to their striking violet colour.

She leaned on the counter, and Hide had a hard time keeping his eyes to her face when the folds of her chest just about _spilled_ onto the bar in her revealing black dress.

“I’m actually waiting for someone,” Hide said, deciding to stick with the safest lie he could. Maybe then he could run to Banjou for help if he needed it. That is, if Hide was right about his character.

“That’s cute.” Her blood-red lips twisted into a crescent smile. Her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks as she blinked. “So? What’s her name? Or _his_ name? Actually, let’s start with the basics. What’s _your_ name, boy?”

Hide gave his usual sunny grin. “My full name is Hideyoshi, but you can call me Hide.”

“ _Hide,_ huh?” her eyes glinted with mischief. Hide watched her lick her lips as she leant forward towards him. “That’s a very cute name for a cute thing like you.”

“I’m flattered,” Hide said, dropping his voice. He knew this was the time to act. He hadn’t learnt nothing from everything he’d seen. Now was the time to mingle, to fake it until he made it. Shelf that anxiety and replace it with something else.

_When you act well enough, people are inclined to act afraid of you._

“What’s your name, then?” he asked, leaning on the bar. The bartender gave him his drink _right_ at the perfect minute, and Hide took a sip of it, not once breaking eye-contact with the woman. She grinned back.

She reminded him of Cheshire cat.

“Rize,” she said, smiling. “Kamishiro Rize.”

Hide was sure he’d heard the name before, and not in a good way.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rize.”

“Same to you, _Mr Hide._ ” She grinned at him while taking a sip of her own cocktail. Now, in the changing light, all he could sense from her was the feeling of _predator._ Like a panther, enticing its prey into safety so she could pounce.

Hide placed his drink down at took the chance to observe her. She seemed to relish in his attention.

Except all he was doing was trying to scan how bad of a threat she was. Black dress, along with some sort of furry plush looped over her shoulders. Her hair was down, and there was a small purse resting beside her on the bar top.

Hide drew a blank. He had a deep, _insticual_ feeling that he was in danger around this woman.

_Time to escape?_

He scanned the crowd, mentally preparing himself for the act he would have to put on.

Act well, and she’ll follow it. Act well, act well, _act well—_

“Oh, that’s them there!” he cried, jumping up and pointing. He turned back to her, nodding politely. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rize.”

He turned on heel, desperate to get away.

“Ah, Hide, wait. You left your drink behind.”

He turned back and saw her reaching out with it in his direction. The small beer looked unrefined against her. Hide smiled, forcing gratitude onto his face. “Thanks for that,” he said. “I’m so forgetful.”

“Don’t worry yourself. I myself get a bit clumsy too. It was nice to meet you, Hide.”

As he took the glass, he felt her sharp-nailed hands brush against his for an uncomfortable moment. They’d been perfectly manicured, glowing red against the pale, soft skin of her hand.

“Thank you,” he said again, and turned away.

Once he was suitably within the throng of people, he breathed a sigh of relief. God, that had been terrifying.

He sipped at his drink. It was foul. Had it always been this sour, or was the panic of the moment what distracted him from the actual taste? He wasn’t sure.

_I paid so much money for that,_ he mentally cried. It didn’t matter how bad it tasted; he would drink the thing he’d wasted so much money on.

At one end of the club was a small stage where performers would ‘strut their stuff’. However, most of the performers were just on the classier side of strippers. Around the stage were a few small tables that were frequented by waiters, and to the other end of the ground floor was where everyone seemed to be dancing.

Looking up, Hide saw a mezzanine level, where people were sitting and eating, having a full view of the place. Hide wondered what an actual date here would be like.

The dance floor, sitting area and just general place everyone had to dance was a slight depression in the floor of the club, with a slightly raised path around the edges that presumably, the owner could observe through. Along this hallway were doors: the performer’s change room, the toilets, some offices, etc.

Each door had a pair of guards standing in front, minus the toilets.

Hide, suddenly feeling watched, walked over to the stage and sat down at an empty table, sipping his drink sullenly. He was meant to be talking to people, finding things out—why did he feel so introverted tonight of all nights? Wasn’t he the bubbly-personality Hide?

He swallowed, hard. His shitty work parents had given him thumbs-up for this.

He downed the rest of his beer in one go and took a second to process the alcoholic sting. He scanned the room, feeling the effects kick in almost instantly.

Wow, that was pretty fast. How long ago had he bought the drink? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Ten minutes seemed like a safe bet. His hands were shaking. He hadn’t noticed the performer change. The place seemed much louder now. Had he spaced out?

He stood, and for a second, he couldn’t feel his foot. God, what had he ordered? Wasn’t it just a straight beer? It had to be the nerves. Calm down, Hide, he told himself. Calm down.

The place seemed fuller, now. There was an abundance of people that had no care in the world, swaying dangerously, laughing, singing along to lyrics Hide couldn’t hear.

Get info, he thought. That had been his job. He had to live up to it.

Without thinking too much he—quite literally—dived into the thrush of bodies. People were singing and dancing, laughing. The air was filled with a mix of alcohol, perfume and perspiration.

The shock to his senses caught him, and he stumbled. A pair of feminine hands wrapped around his own and he looked up to see a shorter, brown-haired girl grinning up at him. Her face was red and glowing, eyes bright if not glassy. She pulled him into her rhythm, and he danced with her.

“What’s your name?” yelled the girl over the music.

“Hide!” he yelled back, brushing shoulders with strangers. “What’s yours?”

“Yoriko!”

“Nice to meet you!” he yelled, grasping her hands again. He felt so childish around her: they were literally just jumping up and down to the bass drop of the music, grinning stupidly at each other.

Maybe he didn’t feel so nervous anymore.

“Who are you here with?” Yoriko asked as the music died down for a moment.

Hide shook his head. “I’m alone,” he admitted. “My buddies left me.”

“Huh” her mouth fell open, eyes wide and honest. “That’s so mean!”

Hide shrugged as the music started up again. “What about you?”

“I’m here with a bunch of friends,” she said, looping arms with him and leading him to another part of the dance floor. “There’s a few of us, and we’re celebrating because we just finished midterms.”

“You’re still in school?”

“It’s my final year,” Yoriko said. _“I_ am of age.”

Hide laughed. It felt _so_ good to laugh. He hadn’t realised how warm it made him feel. Hell, looping arms with a stranger felt great. Maybe this whole place was great.

“So your friends aren’t?”

His eyes fell upon a small group of people standing around a small, circular bar-height table. Their drinks rested on it. There were two boys and one girl with short, dark hair, styled to fall over one of her eyes. Her cheeks were dusted with pink.

“Guys, I met this guy!” Yoriko yelled, once again trying to talk through the roar of the music. “His name’s Hide, and, um . . .” Yoriko looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, my friends ditched me, and now I’m all alone, so Yoriko took me over here,” Hide said, grinning. “I’m a first-year at Kamii.”

“Sweet!” said one of the boys. “That’s where I wanna go!”

Hide felt great. He lingered at their table, laughing and talking. Why was he there again? He didn’t care. The edges of his vision were bright, stained with the neon globes in the dim place. Everything felt great, even when the dark-haired girl gave him the silent treatment.

Speaking of her, Yoriko sat next to her and leaned her head on her shoulder. Hide couldn’t tell if they were dating or not. Maybe they were just really good friends? Sometimes girls were really clingy? Eh, what did Hide know? He had a crush on his classmate and on one of the city’s worst criminals simultaneously. Who was he to critique other people’s lives?

Wow, he had made that personal quick. He rubbed at his forehead, zoning back into what one of the boys was saying.

“Hey, Hide,” he said, “Are you . . . your eyes are a bit . . .”

Hide raised his eyebrows, smiling. “I dunno, man. Oh, I have to ask: do you know if there’s anyone here that’s connected to gangs?”

The dark-haired girl stood up suddenly. “I’m going home,” she said. “I don’t feel well, and my brother is waiting for me.” She stalked off.

“Wait, Touka—” Yoriko started, chasing after her.

The two boys looked at each other, then at Hide. “I guess we should leave, too,” one of them said. “Nice to meet you, Hide.”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Hide said, waving brightly. This constant cycle of hellos and goodbyes could have felt hollow, but Hide didn’t really care. He felt warm, like he was engulfed in joy, as if all the good intentions he’d always thought he had were glowing out through his pores.

He went back to the dance floor. How long had he been in there? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t really care. People smiled at him with brightly-painted lips and dark eyes. People kissed him when he looked away. It felt amazing.

A cool hand wrapped around one of his own, thrown up in the air. There was the press of cool lips against his neck, and he shivered. “Hide,” said an all-too familiar voice, “you’re not okay.”

He spun around, seeing the familiar white-haired man, as still as a statue amongst waves of people. Hide thought he was standing on the edge of a cliff. Behind him, the world was moving and growing and sweating, but Kaneki stood still, like a ghost.

Like a deity.

Hide cupped Kaneki’s face in his hands, making the other boy’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Has anyone ever told you, Kaneki, that you’re beautiful?”

Hide remembered shouting his confession over a fence. Normally, that would be embarrassing, but standing in front of the man before him, Hide could only smile at the memory, like an aged polaroid photo; filled with fondness.

Kaneki’s eyes softened. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his fingers through his belt loops and pulling Hide against him. He noticed they were black. There was the briefest of moments where Hide could inspect the way his pale skin turned bluish around his eyes before Kaneki’s lips were against his own, and Hide lost himself in it.

He didn’t care why he was there. He didn’t care what was happening. He was caught up in the stillness that was Kaneki Ken, caught up in a pillar that remained unchanging in a sea of commotion, of desperation, of ecstasy. He felt Kaneki explore every inch of his mouth with his tongue and he moaned against him, craving more. He wanted _all_ of Kaneki Ken. He wanted the ghostly boy and bright lights, he wanted the sadness in his silver eyes, he wanted the scars on his hands, the black of his nails, and he wanted the softness of his lips.

Hide had never realised how much he wanted.

Kaneki’s fingers were in his hair when he pulled away. Hide studied the other boy’s face, pale skin slightly pink, translucent lashes _sucking_ up the colour until silver eyes shone like kaleidoscopes. The world was staining Kaneki Ken with all its emotions.

Kaneki’s fingers brushed over his ears, and in one swift movement pulled out the silver earplug he’d been sent in with.

What was so important about the plug? Hide wracked his brain, but nothing came. Everything was a blur of warmth and colour. But Kaneki—no, Kaneki _shouldn’t_ —he had something to do—

Kaneki dropped it on the ground and crushed it under his foot.

“You . . . that’s not . . .” Hide was so confused. What was going on?

Kaneki’s hands cupped his cheeks and guided him back to his lips. The confusion was gone in an instant. They were swaying together in the music, hips rocking, lips crashing.

“Hide,” Kaneki said, leaning away, “you’re high.”

“What?” Hide whispered. He felt like a kid that had been told a secret: The secret that Kaneki Ken was actually magic.

Kaneki shook his head, concern in his rainbow eyes. “That woman at the bar, Rize, she dropped a drug in your beer when you first came in. That was LSD, Hide. She spiked your drink. You came in here two hours ago, don’t you remember?”

“That’s so funny, Kaneki,” Hide said, pecking at his lips. Kaneki pushed him back, a hand over his mouth.

“Hide,” he said, seriousness in the sculpted grooves of his face, “Rize spiked your drink with LSD. I don’t know how much, but you are very, _very_ high.”

“No, I’m _not_ ,” Hide insisted. “Rize was so nice! She even reminded me that I’d left my drink behind. There’s no way she’d do that.”

“ _Hide.”_

“And I don’t feel any different. I always see you the same way, Kaneki.”

The shorter boy’s eyes were wide and shining. “Hide,” he said, brow knitting with concern. “You’re _high._ ”

“But I feel great,” Hide said, confused. “That’s not what drugs are. Drugs are scary things that make you pale and make your hair fall out to stop your body working the way it wants to.” He thought of his aunt, squeezing his hand from her prone position in the hospital bed, a bandanna wrapped around her bald head. Her eyes had been shining.

“Drugs don’t make people happy.”

When he focused back on Kaneki’s face, Hide felt torn in two. Kaneki’s eyes were painfully soft. He pushed back Hide’s hair gently. “Hide,” he repeated, “there are stages to drugs. You’re high at the moment, but eventually you’ll crash. You should head home now and make it the least bad possible.”

Hide grabbed Kaneki’s wrists. His eyes were watering, and he couldn’t fathom why. “No, I’m not. I can’t be. Kaneki, I can’t be—”

Kaneki pulled Hide against him, lips meeting his neck. “It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re more than this, I know.”

Hide clutched at Kaneki’s slim form, feeling the hard muscles against the boy’s shoulders, buried under layers of clothes. Kaneki smelled like sadness and something chemical, of cigarette smoke and empty bars. He inhaled his smell, savouring it.

“I like you,” Hide said into Kaneki’s shoulder.

He felt Kaneki’s face tense under Hide’s jaw in a smile. “Thank you, Hide.”

Hide ran his hand through the pure-white locks of Kaneki’s hair. “You remind me of someone,” he whispered, leaning against him. They were swaying again, speaking softly even though the music was roaring. “But I can’t figure out who.”

“Must suck for them,” Kaneki joked.

Hide sighed, feeling himself move inches closer. “No,” he said, “why would it?”

Kaneki was silent for a moment. In the next his lips were pressed against his neck, sucking and _stinging_ where Kaneki bit him. Hide groaned, pressing into him. His hands tugged at Kaneki’s hair, pressing him down against Hide’s neck. He felt as if every good thing that Hide had felt shining out of himself were being eaten up by Kaneki, and Hide felt _delicious._

“Hide,” Kaneki murmured, trailing kisses along his jaw. “You should . . .” he paused, kissing the corner of Hide’s parted mouth. “You should go home.”

“I have . . . Akira and . . . I got a job,” Hide murmured, lost in the moment.

Kaneki’s hands, steering his eyes to his, grounded him. His face had grown red in the heat of the club. His pupils were large and black in the moat of silver. “ _Go home,_ ” he whispered.

Hide took Kaneki’s chin his fingers and rested his forehead against Kaneki’s, closing his eyes. He wished they could just dissolve into each other through tactile contact.

Kaneki let out a long breath. Hide felt his ribcage slowly contract as he did, his warm breath cool against the bare skin of his neck. “Hide,” he whispered, “do you believe in ghosts?”

Hide heard the despair in his voice and pressed his lips against Kaneki’s temple. He wanted Kaneki to be as happy as Hide felt. He _wanted_ it. He wanted Kaneki to suck him _his_ colours of joy; neon yellows and pinks and greens and purples that danced like the people in the club, their sweaty limbs coated with the lights studded on the ground.

He trailed kisses along Kaneki’s cheekbone, warm with blood, trailing down to Kaneki’s mouth.

“No,” Kaneki said, pressing a cool fingertip to Hide’s searching lips. Hide stared into Kaneki’s silvery eyes, their colour draining out. He stared at Hide levelly, lips squeezed into a poor-fitting smile. “I’ll see you home, Hide. You need to leave.”

Hide felt Kaneki press something into his pocket. Hide reached for it, but Kaneki took his hand, shaking his head. “Save it for later. Think of it as me making it up to you, okay?”

Kaneki took his hand, and he followed him blindly, looking around the room with wide, alert eyes that seemed to see every single colour in the room, every droplet of sweat and every disorientated, bleary eye. At the bar, he saw the beautiful Rize, who raised a hand to wave at him. Hide waved back. Kaneki watched him, eyes gentle. They continued to the exit along the edges of the club.

Kaneki led him towards the exit, where the cold air was blowing out like a lonely child screaming to be let in. Kaneki tugged at the neck of his jumper, and Hide saw that he’d pulled up a bandana that covered his mouth and nose. It was black except for a pattern of bared teeth that made Hide shiver.

Kaneki led him out into the dark. The cold was icy, and Hide wished he’d brought a jumper. Why hadn’t he brought a jumper? Did he have a coat? Seeing him start to shiver, Kaneki squeezed his hand.

They’d exited onto the backstreet, which was humming with the music from inside the club. The ground was damp from the cold, ice forming on the lampposts.

Kaneki stopped as they reached the corner, looking onto the main road. Where had Amon said they’d meet? Hide couldn’t remember.

“Goodbye, Hide,” he heard Kaneki whisper, but by the time Hide’s head had whipped around to look for the boy, he was gone without a trace.

He sat down on the curb, confused. What had just happened? He knew he still felt great, but now confusion was setting in. What had he done? What exactly was he meant to have done? What did he and Kaneki do? Did it mean anything?

The sound of footsteps thundering down the pavement caught his attention, and he was swept up into strong hands and worried faces. Akira, Amon and Takizawa had found him. Hide felt guilt start in his gut, and in an instant, every emotion he’d felt did a one-eighty and suddenly he was sobbing and crying, ugly and in despair.

He had no idea what had happened at all.

* * *

 

“I had no idea you were such a player, Kaneki.”

He and Eto were sitting in a nearby tree, its huge canopy providing enough cover for them to observe the scene. Kaneki watched with some relief how stressed his colleagues had been about him, but he should have expected Amon Kotarou to be so caring.

He should have.

But he hadn’t.

“I’m not a player,” Kaneki said. He felt tired. He was sure some of the drug had been sitting in Hide’s mouth when he kissed him, and left him a little bit high. It was wearing off, though. It always wore off quickly with him.

“You’re definitely a player,” Eto said. “Making him fall for you when everyone knows that even if you returned the feelings, you two would be destined to never be.”

She was right, there.

“Maybe I’ll re-consider your offer,” Kaneki murmured. “But I doubt it.”

“Please do!” Eto grinned. She’d pulled the medical mask off her face. “Your addition to our ranks would be _most_ handy.”

“Yeah,” Kaneki said distantly. He didn’t really want to join. To be honest, he didn’t really want to have anything to do with them, but Rize’s presence in the bar had irked him. There was that one thread, one intangible connection to her that stretched to the him from _before._

It made his blood run cold, because he hated that too.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hate Nagachika Hideyoshi.

“You two are such Shakespearian material,” Eto sighed. “There’s no fun in that.”

Eto shimmied her way down the tree and began to head off. “See you next time, Kaneki.”

Kaneki didn’t reply. He stayed and watched Hide begin to crash as he sobbed and screamed into the arms of his superiors. Kaneki stayed until Hide had been led off home.

At home, thought about taking out his other phone.

He didn't.

 

 

* * *

 

The next morning was busy.

“And then some _complete idiot_ walks up to our table! I knew I shouldn’t have let Yoriko wander off alone. She always brings back stray dogs.”

Touka was ranting and raving to Ayato at the kitchen table, despite the fact that he didn’t really seem to care. The younger boy was staring at notebook, drawing something like the average sixteen-year-old did.

Kaneki sipped at his coffee in silence. He liked these moments.

“Oi, Kaneki,” Touka snapped, sitting down angrily. “What happened to you last night?”

“I wonder,” he murmured.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaah yes its still T-rated but there was temptation like rly  
> maybe this makes up for it? maybe? please?  
> Thanks again to everyone that comments and leaves kudos I always love reading them! :D
> 
> Next chapter coming on Tuesday (for me), probably Monday night for the rest of you. Thenks~~~


	9. To Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loads of Kaneki backstory and Hide is too curious for his own good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO HAD AN EXTRA POCKET OF FREE TIME AND GOT ALL EXCITED  
> Wait for it: I've actually proof-read and edited this  
> AMAzinG °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ °
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: this chapter is a minefield of triggers ill probably have to change the tags because of it please dont hate me

_“I’ll help you,” she said._

_He stared at her, wary. No, she wouldn’t. No one wanted to help him._

_She held up a bag of cosmetics. “Makeup. I think I can make my own pigments. We’ll use them to cover up your face, make you look healthy. My friend made me this nude eyeliner, and this concealer matches your skin tone . . .” her voice drifted off. “Let me help you, please. Please!”_

_His words failed him at that moment. How was he, who had vowed to hate everything, supposed to accept her kindness?_

_But he did._

_And so, every morning, she would wake up and make him over expertly, hiding his hollow cheekbones, colouring over the dark circles around the eyes, covering his scars. At the end of it, he looked like a normal, healthy human being._

_“As long as no one touches your face,” she said, “no one will notice.”_

_He was always indebt to her. She was one of the things that he knew he would feel sorry for._

* * *

 

Takizawa gave him a lopsided grin as Hide walked in. “Oh, hello, prom queen. Shed enough tears last night?”

Hide sighed. “I did, yes, thank you.”

Amon looked concerned only for his health. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What’s wrong? Did you see who did it?”

Akira stood, placing a firm hand on her partner’s shoulder. “Nagachika,” she said, “did you willingly take the drug?”

“No.”

She nodded, pale eyes calculating. “Do you know who got you?”

“A woman named Kamishiro Rize spiked my drink.”

Her eyes turned stony. “I see.”

“She’s a criminal, isn’t she? I had the feeling when I was talking to her. She’s one scary woman.”

“She’s a known murderer. Not affiliated with any groups, either. Just a straight-up, open serial killer.”

_Holy shit._

“She was pretty terrifying.”

“She was probably going to kill you, Hide!” Amon was shaking him, now. “You could have _died!”_

“But I didn’t,” Hide said, brightly. “And now all I have to do is be routinely terrified of pretty ladies.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Akira.

She shrugged. “Please remember how terrified you should have been when I _have you all fired.”_

Collectively, the men in the room mumbled ‘sorry’.

“What else did you find out?”

“The Ghouls are involved in dealing crack cocaine.”

Akira was already taking notes. “Tell us everything.”

* * *

 

That afternoon, when Hide had woken up feeling like _shit,_ realised that he’d been put to bed in his pyjamas and washed. Shit, he couldn’t remember anything after he’d found his superiors running towards him on the street. He’d been tripping bad, he was sure.

Holy shit, had he made out with _Kaneki Ken?_

It took Hide a solid hour to get himself past that realisation. He was sure his memories were stained with his tripping-out, because there was no way things were _quite_ that bad, right? No, definitely his own imagination.

But . . . hadn’t Kaneki put something in his pocket?

_“Think of it as my way of making it up to you.”_

Hide, in his frenzy, went searching for that scrap of memory, that untouchable _something_ that had been put in his pocket.

It was a tiny scrap of paper with neat, organised notes:

  * _Rize Kamishiro buys from GLG_
  * _GLG is essentially a re-distributor of drugs it buys off other manufacturers in smaller gangs_
  * _GLG could be relocating_
  * _Aogiri gaining power in city_



That paper alone was the sole reason Hide had gathered up the nerve to take a handful of painkillers in the attempt to become respectable enough to show up to work.

Kaneki had given him information about the gang system of Tokyo. Why? What did Kaneki wish to achieve? Or did the guy actually feel genuine sympathy for him?

No, Hide told himself. Of course not.

* * *

 

Kaneki was waiting at the sixth ward train station with two other men: Tsukiyama Shuu, or Mr MM, and Banjou. In cases like these, a smaller group would be better. Banjou was the kind of guy that stuck by his side through thick and thin, and Kaneki was comfortable with his help. Even though his appearance was far more intimidating than his nature, it provided that second’s worth of hesitation Kaneki could use.

Tsukiyama, on the other hand, was slippery and hard to get, able to slit throat’s in a second. Kaneki expected nothing less from the son of one of the most powerful (and corrupt) families in the country. Tsukiyama had been trained from a young age to be ruthless and effective by his father and the rest of his family’s assistants.

_“Monsieur,”_ he said, looking out past Kaneki, _“_ when is our partner meant to be arriving?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kaneki said, “but he’ll come.”

It was a Monday night, but the sixth ward was eerily empty of the usual hustle and bustle of students and consumers. It seemed as if everyone had sensed their arrival in advance and cleared out.

Maybe they had. Kaneki didn’t know.

_“Yoohoo, Kaneki!”_

Three heads whipped in the direction of the voice, hands already reaching for weapons.

Furuta was waving, accompanied by three men in dark clothes and wearing black Panama hats to hide their faces. V members. Kaneki wasn’t surprised.

“You’re early,” Furuta said, smiling dangerously. Kaneki gave a sideways glance to Tsukiyama, who had covered his face with his moon-shaped mask. Banjou remained an open book. Kaneki was never sure what to make of that. His own familiar scarf was around his neck.

“Let’s not wait,” Kaneki said. “Lead the way.”

Furuta continued to smile, eyes narrow. His three companions were dead silent.

“Yes,” he said. “Let us.”

* * *

 

Hide had received four text messages from Haise, that day.

9:20AM _Hide? R u sick? Do u want notes?_

10:00AM Σ(´ﾟωﾟ｀ ) _hide ur missing all these notes!!_

10:27AM _ok ill make a note for u do u want me to bring them to u?_

11:07AM _dw ill give them to nishio_

Hide felt pretty guilty about leaving Haise to sit through that boring two-hour-long period all alone. He sighed, sending a text back:

7:09PM _thanks man_

He received no reply at all, that night.

Feeling crap, he fell asleep on the couch after he got back from the office. Amon and Akira had been like putting himself through a meat grinder, as usual, while Takizawa laughed and made snide comments about him. That boy was in for some serious anger from Hide when he didn’t feel like shit. Just you wait, Seidou.

He was then woken by something flat falling onto his face. He jumped up, groping for whatever had fallen in his disheveled state.

“Your buddy Haise gave me these,” said Nishiki, making himself a cup of coffee. “Damn, what’s a guy like you doing with a guy like him, anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Hide asked, rubbing his eyes. “Just because I’m really dumb?”

Nishiki’s bespectacled eyes gave away nothing. “I thought he was fairly dodgy, myself.”

“Seriously, Nishio, I have no idea what you’re getting at,” Hide insisted, standing. God, his head hurt. He rubbed at his temple. “That guy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“If you say so,” Nishiki shrugged. “But I’d be careful.”

“Dude, I don’t get it!” Hide threw his hands up, “he’s the nicest, purest guy I’ve ever met!”

Nishio shook his head. “They always seem that way.”

“Who does?”

“Okay, clearly it’s none of your business. Probably, it’s none of mine, either.” Nishio’s fingers tapped on the counter. Hide was thoroughly curious, now. Nishio was hardly ever nervous, but that finger-tapping was his own sign of stress.

Had Nishio said something he wasn’t meant to have?

“Jeez, a day without Kimi got you this wound up?” Hide joked, making his way to his room. “I’m sorry I don’t provide enough stimulation for that tense mind of yours.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Hide watched Nishio: he was drinking too quickly, moving too quickly, like he couldn’t wait to get out of the situation. Any second now, Hide knew, he would make some excuse to leave the room.

“I have work to do.”

Nishio was hiding something. Something that Haise was concerned in.

Like what?

* * *

 

The mansion loomed above the small group in the dark. Kaneki pulled his scarf over his nose.

“The Yasuhisa mansion,” Furuta announced, spreading his arms. “Shall we digress?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Kaneki said, walking forward. “What else would we have come here for?”

“I don’t like this, Kaneki,” Banjou said hesitantly. “This place feels . . . bad.”

_That’s a good sign, then,_ Kaneki thought but dared not tell Banjou this. Banjou was probably the most transparent guy Kaneki had ever met; he wore his heart on his sleeve. Time and time again, it confused Kaneki how he ended up in this business.

And how the business hadn’t ended up in him.

They approached the front door, where Kaneki held up a hand to stop their procession. Gently, he placed a cool palm against the door, pushing it forward.

To his surprise, the door was open.

It swung inward almost at his icy touch.

“That’s not normal,” Banjou said, worry in his voice. “That is _not_ normal.”

“Calm down, Banjou,” Kaneki said softly. “It’s meant to be abandoned, remember?”

Kaneki could feel the lying smoothness in his voice like oil poured onto his tongue: disgusting and thick.

Discomfort moved through his group.

They crept inside.

* * *

 

An aging man sat in front of the security monitor. In one hand, he held a coffee, and in the other, a pile of medical notes. Kaneki Ken’s medical notes.

“Kuro, Shiro,” he said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, _Father,”_ they said in unison. Black and white. White and black. They stood in absolute stillness. “We will go and greet them.”

“Good,” he said. “Go and tame our fallen angel.”

* * *

 

Hide rubbed his eyes. He regretted _so_ many choices.

He’d hacked into the CCG database again using Takizawa’s account. Think of it as payback.

Initial searches of “Kaneki Ken” had proven useless, as they had been last time, so he decided to broadly look for more reports of the Ghoul Land Group in general.

Hide knew that the CCG had been gathering information on the group for nearly a decade, but the sheer amount never ceased to amaze him.

Details on the chemical components of the drugs they’d gotten, detailed accounts of acts committed by the group. Murders, robberies, and all kinds of other things. The basic premise of the entire group was to be violent and efficient.

Then, he found one extra note:

All members had a tattoo of the characters “喰種” somewhere on their body. Roughly translated, it meant “ghoul”. Hide supposed that fit. It wasn’t extreme.

Did Kaneki have that tattoo? Hide drew a blank: if Kaneki _did_ have it, then it was somewhere easily concealed. He wracked his memory, trying to think of something. Kaneki always wore high-neck clothing, like turtleneck jumpers, or he had that scarf around his neck, or . . . what else? High-collared tops?

_Hey, doesn’t Haise always wear button-down shirts with the throat button done up? Or sweaters?_

No. That was stupid.

So Kaneki’s _could_ have been on his neck. Where else? His arms? His legs? Maybe he was a foot tattoo kind of guy?

If Kaneki was part of the GLG, he had to have a tattoo.

But was he?

Hide groaned, running his hands through his hair. Fine, calm down. Who were Kaneki’s main associates?

The member known as ‘Rabbit’, whose gender was guessed to be female based on their size and long, pink hair. However, they’d never been seen without a rabbit mask over their face, or had their voice recorded. However, theirs had been spotted on their left shoulder blade.

Another was “Gourmet”, called such because the only weapons he used were throwing knives made by the same brand that made cutlery. Naturally, the CCG had already investigated and drew a blank; the company hadn’t made those knives in over 50 years. They were antiques and valuable.

That explained why the CCG had only every found two from a crime scene.

Why was Kaneki Ken so elusive? Hide could have screamed in frustration.

Annoyed, he decided to look further into the identities of other members. As they ran out, he ended up on a file that spoke about civilian disguises the members could be using.

Hide’s heart stopped.

_“ . . . Often, people use glasses as a mechanism to hide the intensity of their facial features. The bolder shapes of the glasses on their face detract the viewer’s eye from the real features, instead focusing on the glasses themselves. The thicker and bolder the glass frames, the more effective. This is also useful when the wearer’s eye colour is very unique.”_

Haise wore glasses.

“Shut up, Hide,” he snapped at himself. That was stupid. That being said, he kept reading.

_“Another factor is specifically opposite clothing choices. Members of gangs who are renowned for a specific style of dress, such as dark colours or barely-decent items, often dress the complete opposite when not in work: modest, or in nondescript pale colours.”_

Haise wore white or cream button-down shirts with pale sweaters, while Kaneki always wore black.

Jesus, Hide, he wanted to scream, stop doing this! You’ll drive yourself insane!

He kept reading.

_“Another factor in a gang member is anything that is somewhat unique about them, such as their eye colour (see mentioned above). This can include facial markings such as freckles or birthmarks, particular scars, hair colour, or skin tone._

_For each one, see below.”_

Almost despite himself, Hide clicked on the ‘hair colour’ link.

_“For an individual with a unique hair colour, they often refuse to dye it. This can be traced back to an underlying psychiatric condition that they must retain a certain image (as is prevalent in gang members) or the fact that their position in select gang depends upon the image. This often means that they a) style it differently, b) put in dye chalk to wash out or c) wear a hat to distract the eye from its colour or make it seem different. This is a similar technique to the glasses as was previously stated.”_

Hide’s stomach began to clench. No, this was not possible. It was coincidence! Nishiki was playing him! This was stupid, Haise was probably the gentlest, kindest person Hide knew.

He also was high that one time, and had an eye-patch that one time, and—

No. Hide cut off that trail of thoughts. _No._

Against his better judgment, he kept reading this stupid article.

_“Members of gangs, especially when in civilian identities, are often reluctant to participate in social events. This can involve the lack of friends, having difficulty socializing and often never attending any social functions in the danger that something could happen to expose them.”_

Hide slammed the computer shut. Nope. Nope. Nope.

_Just_ because Haise ticked a lot of these boxes, it did _not_ make him Kaneki Ken. Hide would stop thinking like that. Sure, maybe Haise was part of a gang—which Hide strongly doubted—but he didn’t _have_ to be Kaneki. That was too personalized of an approach from Hide.

And then, maybe Kaneki _did_ have a civilian identity. Hadn’t he said, when Hide and he first met, that he was studying Literature?

_Haise studies Literature._

“No!” Hide yelled, throwing away the computer. Angrily, he threw the covers up over himself. “No!”

The thought hung over him like a bad smell.

* * *

 

Until they’d wandered into his underground lab, the search had seemed bleak.

However, at the end, they’d still ended up there.

That was where the shit hit the fan.

They’d found a pathway to the basement, which in turn led into a series of underground tunnels. They had proceeded in silence the entire time, every nerve tingling with anxiousness. It was creepy. Their suspicions had been correct; something was happening here.

At the end of the tunnel, they ended up in a huge, metal-plated room. It would have been thirty meters high, at least. They had gotten very deep underground, indeed.

“Kaneki,” Tsukiyama whispered, “I’m not so sure about this.”

“I agree,” Banjou said. “This isn't right.”

“Kaneki, your accomplices don’t seem very loyal,” Furuta grinned.

Kaneki remained silent. He had no time for this. He could feel the anger already budding in the back of his throat. His hands shook. Kanou was here. Kanou was _here._

“ _Hey, Sister, do you believe in ghosts?”_

_“No, Sister. Why would you ask that?”_

_“I could have sworn I was looking at one.”_

The only way forward was to cross the room to the next tunnel. Normally, this was a straightforward process. It would be, if there weren’t two figures standing in front of it.

One, garbed all in black, and the other in stark white.

Yashiro and Kurona, together. A collective unit that Kaneki was wary of. They were in his way.

_Again._

“Kaneki,” Tsukiyama started, “do you know these people?”

The Gourmet persona had settled over him. His voice was smooth and deep. Kaneki knew he was holding one of his knives in hand already. Kaneki nodded. “These are the ones I warned you about.”

_“Hear that, Sister? He warned them about us!”_

_“Has he warned them about himself?”_

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Furuta mused, delight in his voice. Kaneki grunted.

“Can I leave them to you?” Kaneki asked. “These should be the only major obstacles. Past them is Kanou.”

“You _are_ a man with a mission, aren’t you?” Furuta smiled at him. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go on alone. My men here are strong. They’ll help yours with the task.”

“Oi, Kaneki . . .” Banjou looked more uncomfortable about being left with the silent V members than Kuro and Shiro. Kaneki clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“If you betray my men,” Kaneki said levelly, staring down Furuta in his dark eyes, “I will _destroy_ you.”

Furuta’s smile didn’t falter. “Please do.”

* * *

 

“Now, now, Kaneki,” said the old man in front of the monitor, “be kinder to your foster sisters.”

* * *

 

_Screaming. Who was screaming? Was he screaming? He didn’t know. His head hurt. His throat hurt. His chest hurt. Fuck, everything hurt. His every cell burned in agony._

_“Start counting,” came the heavy, violent voice, roaring with his own fucked-up gluttony and that eerie undertone that never ceased to creep him out. “Start!”_

_“Nine-hundred and . . .” Shit, what the fuck was it? How was he meant to do mathematics in this situation?_

_There was the metal ‘shiiing’ of metal slicing and an inferno of pain from his leg. “FUU—NINE HUNDRED AND . . .—”_

_Again, it came._

_“NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY-THREE!” he screamed, tears burning his bloody cheeks._

_“Oh, that’s good,” he said, voice thick. “That’s good.”_

_“Nine hundred and eighty-six . . . nine hundred and seventy-nine . . .”_

* * *

 

Kaneki walked forward. Opposite him, Kuro and Shiro walked to meet in their eerie unison. Kaneki saw the way their bangs fell over one of their eyes.

When people cut out _their_ eyes, they didn’t heal.

“ _Sister, I don’t think that ghost has faded at all.”_

_“Not at all.”_

“I wish I could say the same.”

Kaneki’s voice was empty. Empty, empty, empty, like his fucking soul. “Time hasn't been so kind to you, I see. Father still getting angry that you failed home-schooling?”

What was he doing? Why was he riling them up? He didn’t know. They brought back so many memories, and the only result he got from the burning chemical reactions in his brain was pure _rage._

Kuro’s eye narrowed. “It seems he’s developed a bark.”

“Shame he still can’t bite.”

Kaneki’s vision was turning red. He barely noticed it when a knife flew past Shiro’s face, slicing a clean cut through her cheek and chopping off her foot of hair. I sailed past her until it _thunked_ into the wall not far beyond.

Her eye was wide as she stared at him. Kaneki knew that while she held his attention, Kuro would be moving. Kuro would be _moving,_ filled with that sisterly anger to strike him down. Kuro loved to go from the top.

Kaneki didn’t even break Shiro’s eye contact as he ducked, hearing Kuro fly over the top of him.

He started towards her, a knife already grasped in his fingertips, ready to strike—

He ran right past her. He didn’t have the time.

“ _Allez!”_ he heard Tsukiyama yell from behind him, presumably engaged in combat with them already.

* * *

 

_“Your regenerative abilities are very impressive, Kaneki.” His voice was cold. Synthetic. Clinical. “I’m thinking we should take it up a notch.”_

_“How so?” the other voice was wet and dripping. Dripping with blood and all manner of other things. It was disgusting._

_“I think we can move past the general wounds. Let’s try vital organs, now. Kaneki,” he grasped, Kaneki’s chin. Blindfolded and lying on that table, Kaneki could only cry._

_“If you survive this, Kaneki, if you fulfill my expectations . . . you can be God.”_

_He screamed._

* * *

 

“What the fuck.” Kaneki’s voice broke the silence. “What the _fuck.”_

They’d sprinted there, run up the stairwell and found the control room, the walls covered with screens showing security footage. There was a chair and papers, but there was no one in the room.

No one had been in that room for a very long time.

He spun to Furuta, who was grinning. “Well, this is an issue, isn’t it?”

“You set me up,” Kaneki whispered. “You set me up! You set me and my men up! Kanou was never here, was he? Shit, you’re probably working with him!”

Furuta’s smile didn't falter for an instant. “That’s a bit of an accusation, isn’t it? Kaneki?”

Kaneki stormed over to the desk. There were papers next to the chair— _his_ papers. His own, smiling, black-haired face and _everything_ they did to him and recorded. The lab experiment Kaneki Ken immortalized on sheets of paper.

They were cold to the touch.

“I don’t know why you did this,” Kaneki said, voice shaking with anger, “but I know you did. Tell me, Furuta— _where—is—Kanou?”_

Furuta smiled. “You could never have touched him, Kaneki. He’s trying to make God. Little fallen angels like you can never so much as lay a finger on him.”

Kaneki’s anger ebbed away. Normally, he would feel tired at this point. His thoughts would wonder.

This was not his ‘normally’, however.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Kaneki’s voice was smooth and sharp. In his fingers, he tapped the flat of his blade. “That if you betrayed my men, I’d destroy you?”

Furuta laughed.

* * *

 

_“He regenerated his liver? And his kidneys? They got faster each time?” His voice was happy, elated. He seemed like he was being told his child was getting straight A’s at a parent-teacher night. “If we were to increase the dosage, would it affect him?”_

_“It seems like his body is beginning to hold permanent changes,” the other man said. Kaneki bit back the urge to scream out the numbers at the mere sound of his voice. He was already crying._

_He was always crying._

_“That’s a good sign,” said proud father. “I’ll increase it anyway. Maybe we’ll have exponential results. If you’ve tried all his organs, try his heart next. I want to see how quickly his body grows it back.”_

_“I can do that.” He sounded far too pleased with the objective. “Also, we’re running low on anesthesia . . .”_

_“Don’t lie to me, Jason,” said the doctor. “We both know you haven’t been using it on him.”_

* * *

 

Kaneki, as it tended to, forgot his moments of rage. When he came to he was walking down the stairs that he had just sprinted up, with blood staining his black top and hands. He was missing a few knives, the rest covered in blood.

He could guess what happened.

Furuta did not accompany him back.

By the time he reached Banjou and Tsukiyama, the V agents were dead and Kuro and Shiro were gone. Everything seemed to have disappeared in an instant.

“I was set up,” he said. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

Empty, hollow, synthetic, fake. That’s all he could think of himself. Made of baby tissues and pensioner’s memories.

“What happened?” Tsukiyama looked concerned. He hadn’t taken off his mask yet, which left it splattered with blood. Whose, Kaneki wasn’t sure.

“Furuta is dead,” he said. “Kanou wasn’t here. It was a hoax.”

“Then why . . .” _why would he even lead us out here?_

They knew him well enough not to question why Furuta was dead.

“I’m not sure,” Kaneki said. “Let’s head back. I bet they probably fucked with us while we weren’t there.”

* * *

 

Kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me—

_“Are you grateful to us? You should be. We made you strong. Problems are the result of one’s own weakness.”_

I want to die please kill me please please please I’ll count I’ll do anything please—

_“You can even get back at that Aunt of yours. You crashed her business. Her husband made great drugs, you know? She made a fortune selling them. But you . . .”_

_Oh, God. If he existed, strike him dead right there._

_“Instead, she got rid of you. Do you know why? Because you’re_ weak, _Kaneki. You’re_ useless. _She sold you to some organ-harvesting group, and Kanou found out that your blood type was AB. It was chance. You are so weak fate plays with you like a toy.”_

_Why did Kaneki’s heart keep fucking beating?_

_“Stop,” Kaneki whispered shakily. “Please.”_

_Jason laughed. It filled the entire room and Kaneki’s ears burned. It hurt. His head hurt. Fear filled his stomach and spread through his entire body like a lethal virus. If only it could kill him. He was terrified._

_“Stop?” he taunted. His weight shifted, and Kaneki knew he was standing now. “Why would I do that? Do you think you have any power over me, Kaneki? You’re trash! You’re worthless! If only you could die, ha!”_

_Kaneki hadn’t been talking to him._

_Kaneki had been begging his heart to just_

_Stop_

_Beating._

* * *

 

Kaneki heard the news when he entered the bar. Uta didn’t seem too shocked that they’d been set up. He also didn’t seem very impressed that Kaneki had outright killed his business partner.

Kaneki guessed he was used to it.

“Rize’s gone,” said Uta, pouring himself a shot. “V took her. Just vanished in a second.”

“What does that mean?” Banjou looked confused, not to mention terrified. Kaneki knew that Banjou and Rize went back to a time before him, and that Banjou cared about her deeply, despite the fact Rize wore the big guy like a cheap accessory.

“It means,” Kaneki said calmly, “that V is using her again.”

Rize Kamishiro, the product of careful training from V, who had escaped due to her own violent desire for power, was now back in their control.

This, at the same time Aogiri was gaining power, left them at a single conclusion:

“V wants its city back.”

* * *

 

Hide woke up on Tuesday morning with one goal:

He would invite Haise Sasaki out on a date.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyaaaa i hope u enjoyed? 
> 
> THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT ALWAYS LEAVES COMMENTS I ACTUALLY LOVE ALL OF YOU MWAH LET ME SEND YOU KISSES
> 
> hit me up on tumblr at http://half-of-the-story.tumblr.com/


	10. On the Verge of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hide is a pushy friend and Tsukiyama is the worst classmate ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HEY HEY IT'S TIME AGAIN IT'S BEEN TWO DAYS FOR ME HOPE YOU ENJOY I HAVE LIKE 3 ESSAYS DUE THANKS

“Hey, Haise!” Hide yelled, running up to the guy at their 3pm Wednesday Creative Writing class. He dumped his books, before turning to stare down at Haise. The boy had been reading a book, and stared up at Hide with his pale, doe eyes.

_Glasses are used to distract from the eyes themselves._

“Want to go see a movie with me this weekend?”

“What?”

“This weekend. Saturday or Sunday afternoon. Hell, even Friday’s are good after 4 o’clock. What do you say? I hear there’s a great movie playing this weekend!”

“Hide, calm down,” Haise said, putting down his book. “You’re really flustered.”

Hide made a show of breathing out long and hard, before breathing in again.

_Often reluctant to engage in social activities._

“What do you say?” Hide was brimming with nervous energy. Surely, Haise wouldn’t turn him down. Sure, the guy was shy, but there was no way . . .

Definitely, there was no way.

“Um, week-ends are a bit hard for me, I’m sorry,” Haise said. Hide could see the apology in his eyes. “Maybe another time?”

“What about Friday night?” Hide insisted.

Haise seemed taken aback by his passion for the request. Hide could already see the ‘no’ forming on his tongue. Hide, in his desperation, grabbed both of Haise’s hands in his own. The smaller boy jumped, his face turning tomato red.

“ _Please?”_

Haise looked away. Hide could basically see the steam coming out of his skin in embarrassment. “Um, well, I mean—“

Hide had to get him to agree. He _had_ to. If Haise said no, then . . . what would stop Hide from thinking down that pathway he did not want to? There would be nothing.

“It’s a horror movie,” Hide prompted. “Maybe you wouldn’t like it, but you’re always reading those horror books by Takatsuki. It’s called the _Conjuring,_ but that’s only scary if you believe in—”

_Do you believe in ghosts?_

Haise, bright red, whispered his answer.

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll go. But—but I’m paying for our tickets!”

* * *

 

“The Garden is breathing down my neck, Kaneki,” Uta sighed. “They’re like, ‘oh, you shitty gang killed one of our members! Woe is us!’”

“It’s their fault,” Kaneki sighed. “I warned Furuta, and he obviously didn’t take us seriously.”

Uta shrugged. “You’re a pretty up-tight person, Kaneki. Maybe they thought they could abuse that.”

“Hmm,” Kaneki said. Despite his nonchalance, a thought turned in the back of his head: _had Furuta wanted him to kill him? Was that intentional?_ He mentally tossed it aside.

He’d made his own coffee from the back room and sat down at the bar. Uta knew that Kaneki hated alcohol—it was one of many things he hated—and the fact that he never got drunk left something to be desired.

Uta handed him a cigarette, which Kaneki gladly accepted. Wednesdays were always slow for them. They had no orders for goods, no jobs, no real anything. Usually, Kaneki sat at the bar until something interesting happened.

Lately, he’d been getting bored of that.

“Nishiki came by yesterday,” Uta said. “He seemed really freaked out about some kid at his university.”

“I wonder why that is.” Kaneki took another sip of his coffee. It was delicately bitter, like his tastebuds were looking for that intense bitterness and only able to steal and snatch at it.

Uta lit his own cigarette and tossed the lighter to Kaneki. He breathed in first, then grasped the thin shaft in his fingers, blowing out as he leaned back against the drinks cabinet. Despite Itori being the owner, Uta always seemed to be the only one around.

“How’s this thing with the boy of yours going?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Uta smirked. “The nightclub footage says otherwise. I never thought that you, _the Black Reaper,_ would be so gentle with so mortal a man.”

Kaneki lit his own smoke and tossed it back. Instantly the familiar sense of dislike started as he felt the smoke sting through his every respiratory canal. “Coming from the man who has one-night stands _on a daily basis._ ”

“Hey, now. It’s twice-daily, get it right.”

Kaneki smirked. “Find any good bookworms recently? I finished the last one you stole.”

“I was wondering where that went,” Uta straightened. “Yeah, the last chick was actually smart. I think she was in it for the same reason I was.”

“Free sex with no repercussions?”

“Wow, that sounded pretty demeaning, Kaneki. I almost feel bad.”

Kaneki downed the last of his coffee, sticking his cigarette behind his ear. “So, any books?”

“I think she already had the new Takatsuki Sen book, since I know Eto is a stickler for not giving away any money. It’s in the office.”

Kaneki grunted in affirmation. He always wondered why Uta would take books he never read. But in the end, he didn’t think too deeply about it. Kaneki was the one exploiting his habit, anyway.

He stood, feeling the general air that he had no reason to loiter and might as well do more productive things. He was heading out to the office when Uta stopped him, asking, “What do you think they’re going to use Rize for?”

Kaneki felt fatigue prickle at the back of his eyes. He blinked, very slowly. God, why did Uta ask him these questions? Didn’t he know that Kaneki wasn’t smart or knowledgeable in V’s affairs?

“I dunno,” Kaneki admitted. “Probably something that will win them back Tokyo. You know how they hate being underneath other gangs.”

“But they’re not dealing many drugs,” Uta said, smirking in his direction. “So how are they going to?”

_Take away what makes us desirable,_ Kaneki wanted to say. He didn’t.

He shrugged, pushing open the door. “I’ve no idea.”

* * *

 

_“Do you like reading?”_

_The girl with dark hair stood above his table. Her red-framed glasses made her eyes look impossibly violet. Kaneki immediately felt his face go red. Why would a pretty girl like her pay attention to someone like him?_

_“Um—ah, yes,” he stammered, hiding his face behind the book. “It’s . . . it’s very dear to me.”_

_The girl smiled. It was delicate like porcelain. The flawlessness of her skin, the deep pigment of her features; dark eyes, intense brows, the right dusting of pink on the tip of her nose from the winter’s sting. Her smile was different to anything else Kaneki had seen before._

_“So it’s like an escape?”_

_Her words were not harsh, but the directness caught Kaneki off guard. He watched in a stunned silence as she sat down, the lacy folds of her dress swaying in the air, feather-light. Her eyes glowed with curiosity. “Isn’t it?”_

_“It’s . . .” Was it? Was it an escape to Kaneki? He felt like the obvious answer was yes, but something disputed that within him. “Not exactly.”_

_Her eyebrows perked up, and she lent forward on her elbows, curious. “What is it to you, then?”_

_“Well, um . . .” what would he say? He wasn’t good at talking to girls! What did he need to say? What was he meant to say? What did she want to hear?_

_“After my father died, well—oh, he died when I was young,” Kaneki said quickly, noticing the sympathy flood to her face. “He died, and, well, his books were my only connection to him. It hurt my mother too much to leave too many pictures of him around the house, so . . . I don’t really have many things of him.”_

_“So you read for your father to escape from your mother?”_

_Shame. Shame on him. Shame_ in _him. His face turned red now but glowing with guilt. He loved his mother, he told himself. Surely, her love was strange, and maybe people would frown upon it but—God, had he been that transparent?_

_“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl reached out and grasped his hand. He flinched at the contact, but she smiled reassuringly, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. Her hands were warm. “Some families are strange. I won’t tell. I promise.” She pressed a palm to her heart, violet eyes serious._

_Kaneki could have cried._

_He shook his head, looking down. “Um, I shouldn’t . . . my life is great. My mother does all the work herself. I have nothing to complain about. She—”_

_“Don’t make excuses,” the girl said, voice hard. Again, Kaneki found it lacked any real ice, any real harshness. It was almost genuine, he realised. Genuine sympathy, expressed through different ways. Like gene expression in different cells; some are expressed whilst others are not. Were human traits the same way?_

_“I’m . . . not.” His voice was so pathetically weak. God, he was so pathetic. His mother would beat him—_

_The girl was right. He was making excuses, wasn’t he?_

_But it was so fucked because he_ couldn’t _hate his mother. He just couldn’t. She did so much for him. It was obviously his fault: his own pathetic personality, his own stupidity, his own selfishness._

_“What’s your name?” the girl’s voice was soft. “Mine’s Rize. Yours?”_

_“Kaneki,” he said, equally as quiet but not nearly as touching._

_Rize smiled. “So, why do you like reading?”_

_Kaneki was quiet for a long time. Rize seemed to ooze patience, which was strangely comforting._

_“I like to try and imagine what kind of man would read the books,” he said hesitantly. “Try to imagine what kind of face he’d have, what kind of stories he’d tell. Things like that. Small things. They’re stupid, I shouldn’t—”_

_“That’s cool,” Rize said, smiling. “That’s really cool.”_

* * *

 

Hide paced his room. It helped drone out the _noise_ coming from Nishio’s. Think, he told himself. Maybe Haise had been reluctant, but he hadn’t said no. Hell, the guy had insisted on buying them tickets. Hide wouldn’t let him, of course. How rude would it be to make someone forcibly come see a film they didn’t want to _and_ make them pay? Rude!

What would he wear? What would he ask? Would he— No, Hide had established that Haise was very unlikely to be related to gangs. The guy was just _too_ kind. Nishiki probably made some paranoid connection and freaked out. Maybe Haise did that appearing-disappearing act that scared him. Yeah, it was probably that.

_Don’t make excuses. Don’t talk yourself out of it._

Jesus, of all the times for Confucius to be spreading wisdom! Hide had to be rational, here. Haise, with his shy personality and meek nature would never fare well in a gang. He’d probably be the kind of kid everyone made their bitch.

Holy shit, that was so mean. Hide whacked his forehead, muttering “stupid!”

In all honesty, Hide would probably end up being their bitch. Gangs tended to be made up of people with more metal in their bones than calcium.

Hide sat himself down on the foot of his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had to know more about Kaneki Ken. He had to—

Wait.

Hide knew _nothing_ about Kaneki Ken.

“Argh!” Hide wanted to slam his head through the wall.

* * *

 

_The next time he saw Rize, his mother was long dead._

_He was such a bad kid. How dare he think badly of his mother? How dare he?_

_He was the worst._

_His mother had been so loving, so caring, so able to do everything and ask nothing in return. His aunt . . ._

_He took a deep breath, tilting his head back. When he opened his eyes, he saw a pale face staring down at him from above._

_“Argh!” he yelped, sinking back into his seat. Rize smiled. “You!”_

_“M-Me,” Kaneki agreed, waiting for her to sit down opposite him before he had the nerve to straighten back up in his seat. Rize smiled across at him. Visually, she looked the same, but Kaneki . . . he could almost feel a weight in her gaze, rather than see it. It was an intense, dull burn, like nerves before a presentation._

_“You’re . . . it’s Kaneki, right?” she smiled at him._

_It didn’t feel quite as genuine anymore._

_“Yes,” he said, nervously. “And you’re Rize, right?”_

_“Bingo!” she laughed, clapping her hands in excitement. “How are you? You look so old!”_

_Kaneki_ felt _old._

_“It’s school,” he lied. “It’s really stressful, and I’m really scared of bringing home a disappointing grade.” Shit, that had slipped out. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. Shit, now Rize would tell his Aunt this, or she’d tell her friend this and somehow through a game of Chinese Whispers it would reach his Aunt, twisted and subjected to a cruel hyperbole and he would—_

_“School is tough,” Rize agreed, pouting. She swung her bag—which Kaneki now noticed was slung over her shoulder—onto the table. “I have_ so _much homework.”_

_Kaneki felt the smile play at his lips. They were sitting in the local library, where Kaneki often retreated under the pretence of work. He had nowhere else to escape from his house to._

_“H-how are you?” Kaneki’s voice shook. He was so bad at conversation._

_Rize smiled. “I’ve seen better days. My beauty sleep has been dwindling.” She yawned, as if to emphasise this. “Then again, success chips away at the soul.”_

_They fell into silence. Kaneki, too nervous to figure out how to get the conversation going again, turned back to his book. It was Takatsuki Sen’s new book, “Monochrome Rainbow”, a collection of morbid short stories about humanity and the severe lack thereof._

_“I have that book,” Rize said, peering at him with interest. “It’s good, isn’t it? She’s really delicate when describing those violent things. It’s insightful, like she’s experienced them enough to warp them into something poetic.”_

_Kaneki couldn’t have put it a better way._

* * *

 

Thursdays were Hide’s least favourite day of the week. Two lectures, very close together, and then five long hours of CCG work. Akira had more or less hired him as a “Consultant Rank Three”, as she put it, which meant she didn’t feel bad about giving him the jobs shitty rookies were dumped with and she could use his super power of observation to help her.

So she said.

Hide knew that standing in front of a photocopier for four hours was literally only observing the ink run dry and the paper jam for _no good reason._

Bored, he looked over to Takizawa, who was clearly not working. His eyes were still, and Hide saw moving colours over the white neck of his shirt. “Hey, Seidou,” he said, “do you think the gangs every fight for control in Tokyo?”

“What?” Takizawa said, snapping back to attention. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

Hide inwardly sighed. “I said, do you ever wonder if the gangs in Tokyo fight for power?”

Takizawa looked genuinely confused. “Why would you ask that?”

“I was just wondering,” Hide said offhandedly. “I just wondered how GLG ended up being the top dogs, and who they had to be beat up to get there.”

“The GLG is huge, Hide. Any other gang would be stupid.”

“Yeah.” But Hide wasn’t convinced. Surely, the GLG wasn’t timeless; there _was_ someone before them, and there would be someone after them. What he wanted to know was how they seemed to change hands so quietly, and how so little evidence of this was found.

Why were gangs so elusive?

“Also, do you think the gangs are super uptight about pledging loyalty and stuff?”

“Hide, they’re violent brutes but they’re not fuckwits,” Seidou said, clearly done with his hassling. “If you didn’t pledge alliance to them, how would you get away with it?”

“What if you were like, so super strong _they_ wanted _you_?”

“Then they’d buy your services, obviously.”

_Then they’d buy your services._

“Wait,” Hide said, rubbing his forehead. His brain seemed to be whirring so fast it was giving him a headache. “What if strong gangs just contract really strong hit-men. Wouldn’t that be useful?”

Takizawa shrugged, saying, “I would have thought that the majority of hit-men _came_ from gangs to work for smaller contractors.”

“Yeah, but there’s—”

“We may not know a lot, Hide,” Takizawa said, “but I think we can assume that much.”

Hide sighed. Maybe Takizawa was right; maybe Hide was wrong. “Do you think there is any evidence of gangs fighting?”

Takizawa threw up his arms. “It never ceases! It’s Thursday night, I’ve had a big week, and now the “Consultant Rank Three” won’t shut up! Yes, Hide, there have been cases. The most recent was nearly two years ago involving a place called _Anteiku._ Go look for it through the archives.”

* * *

 

_“We’ll become buyers of your aunt,” said the old man. “That way, you can come here. She won’t be able to complain with that, will she?”_

_Kaneki felt like he was sinking. He felt like clay was encasing him from the feet up, slowing crushing the air out of him. Was his hair going grey yet? Surely, the amount of stress he was under would make something change. Some twisted part of him wanted it to visual, so he knew that this wasn’t just a bad dream._

_So that he could figure out an escape._

_“I . . . I don’t think so,” Kaneki admitted, staring into his cup of strong, black coffee. It was three o’clock in the morning. “But, she’d . . . I don’t know. What would you do with it?”_

_The old man Yoshimura pressed his lips into a thin smile. “I’d probably sell it. This place is . . . I suppose you could call it a refuge. For me, mainly. To step away from gang life. I’ve grown tired of it, but have all the connections. I’ll ferry it into the group.”_

_Kaneki swallowed. His aunt had told him so many times to get the money directly, to not sell it on unless they were a trusted customer . . ._

_Yoshimura was, wasn’t he?_

_“Okay,” Kaneki breathed, eyes stinging with tears. “Thank you,” he choked out. “Thank you.”_

_Yoshimura placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. It almost felt fatherly._

_Kaneki grew to regret that reassurance._

* * *

 

Hide sat himself down at his desk in Creative Writing in silence. Haise was late.

That was the first thing he noticed.

The second thing was that there was _someone else_ in the lecture.

Their class was 26. It was small. There were 8 males and 18 females. That was why the addition of a new boy caught Hide’s attention like a candle in the dark.

He was tall and lean, the exact size, shape and proportions for a model. He wore bright purple pants and a positively _garish_ shirt. His hair, dyed purple and styled to the side only added to his elegant face.

He was sitting alone, a few rows down. No one had dared approach him yet. If Hide were to guess, he would say the man was maybe a year or two older than himself.

_“Merci, mademoiselle,”_ he called to the girl in the row below, who glowed red. _“J’espère que ce cours est intéressant, parce que je n’ai pas beaucoup d’espace dans ma vie, vous voyez. Mais un ami de moi me dit que c’était très utile pour la vie.”_

Hide didn’t speak French. He had no idea what the man just said, but the girl and her desk partner were glowing, obviously flattered to a spiritual level that a flamboyant individual had just uttered lilting foreign words in their general atomic direction. Hide sighed, leaning into his hand. Maybe the guy had taken a gap year. That would explain the foreign language, but . . . a two-year gap year? Yes? No?

Ugh, Hide didn’t care. He had enough problems in his life. One started with K, and the other with H.

“Hi,” said his H-problem, dropping his stuff in a flurry. His glasses were askew, and his hat was slipping off. His face was a tad pink from his hurrying. Hide raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, did I miss anything? God, I’m sorry for making you wait, you must be so annoyed—”

“Whoa, calm down,” Hide said, laughing. “I only just got here. Take a moment. Relax. Good old professor is late, probably marking all of our plays last night.”

Haise opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Hide felt his nervous energy begin to recede as the boy relaxed into his chair. Hide regarded the boy’s pale face, seeing a few smudges of powder under his nose.

_Is that . . . makeup?_

“Hey, Haise—” he began, but the ice in Haise’s eyes cut him off.

He was glaring down at the man with purple hair, who had turned to smirk back at him.

Angrily, Haise opened his notes and made an effort to not look at the man the entire lecture.

* * *

 

_“Late! Again! What the fuck do you even do, Kaneki, to make you so late? People are_ complaining! _What could distract you so much? Do you even know how much we do for you?”_

_Kaneki, staring down at the table, thought of the warm lights of the coffee shop, the kindly smile of the manager, the reassuring bitterness of his coffee. They talked. Kaneki felt safe. Every time, he forgot to keep track of how long he’d been there. Every time._

_He couldn’t tell his aunt that. No._

_She was holding a wooden spoon, now. Of course, she’d been making the bento for Yuuichi, his cousin. He was uninvolved in all of this. It didn’t affect him at all. Kaneki felt a violent stab of jealously._

_Why him?_

_Pain bloomed from his jaw and sparks flew behinds his eyes. “Answer me when I’m talking you, dammit! Show some respect!”_

_“I’m sorry, Aunt Asaoka,” he said, jaw stinging. “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”_

_“Damn right it’s all your fault. If you’re not useful, just go and die.”_

* * *

 

“Are you ready for tonight?” Hide asked as they packed up, grinning. Haise’s mood had been, well . . . the worst he’d ever seen on anyone the entire lecture. The boy looked up, almost surprised to find Hide staring back at him.

“What?”

Hide’s heart fell. “You didn’t . . . tonight, remember? Movies?”

“Oh, yeah!” Haise smiled. “Ah, I’m really sorry, Hide. It’s really rude of me to—”

“You can’t come?”

“What? No!” Haise waved his hands vigorously. “No, no. I can still come! I just wanted to say sorry for being so _moody_ and all today, I just—”

“It’s fine!” Hide smiled. “So we’re still on, right? Movies? Tonight?”

Haise nodded, determined. “I’m buying the tickets. Local cinema, right?”

“Yep!” Hide couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He was going on a _date_ with Haise. _A date._ What was he, a schoolgirl? “How’s seven?”

“Perfect,” Haise smiled. “Um, thank you for inviting me. Really, I’m not that good with people, so . . . thanks for, um . . . just thanks.”

_Thanks for sticking with me._

Hide grinned. “Don’t be so harsh on yourself! You’re a great guy!”

Haise’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you.”

“ _What’s this_?” the man’s voice was . . . unpleasant. Haise went rigid, and Hide froze. Hide could only watch the taller man approach and hold out his hand towards Haise. “Tsukiyama Shuu, how do you do?”

Haise’s gaze was unusually steeled. “Pleasure.”

Tsukiyama, completely unfazed by Haise’s uncharacteristic coldness, moved on to Hide. “I’m new here. I swapped in from Asian History.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Hide said, taking the man’s outstretched hand. “It’s Hide. I nearly took that course myself. Nice to meet you too, Tsukiyama.”

The man gave a thin, almost creepy, smile. “I hope we have many great meetings, Mr Hide.”

“Say, Mr Tsukiyama,” Haise said, evenly. “Our class is over, and I hate to be rude, but we really must be going, right, Hide?” The instant their eyes met, Hide could see the begging to leave in Haise’s eyes.

“It was nice to meet you, _Tsukiyama,_ but we really must be off. See you for Monday’s lesson.”

“Oh, I will, _Haise._ ”

* * *

 

_The younger girl was there, today. She too was doing the same thing Kaneki was. She was around the age Kaneki had been when his aunt began to send him out: around fourteen. Her eyes were sunken and tired. Weariness dripped from every inch of her being._

_“What’s your name?” she asked, voice rough and eyes icy. Kaneki flinched under her tone._

_“Kaneki,” he said. “Yours?”_

_“Touka.”_

_They lapsed into silence, the both of them sipping the coffees Yoshimura had made for them. “My neighbour,” she said. “You?”_

_“Aunt.”_

_It wasn’t an uncommon train of conversation. Kaneki was getting better into forcing himself into the mould he had crafted to deal with this new life; confident, quiet and efficient. He wore a watch, constantly checking the time. He wouldn’t be late again. He’d please her, this time._

_Touka nodded. “Yoshimura try and help you too? He says that if I come and live here, I’ll escape my bitch of a neighbour. God, I hate her. She threatened to kill my brother if I didn’t do her work, though.”_

_She was such an open person, but at the same time Kaneki felt her restrain herself. She, like many others, was used to hiding. “How long have you been doing this for?” she asked him._

_“Nearly two years.”_

_Had time passed that quickly? No, it hadn’t changed. It had been six years since his mother’s death. God, that was so fucked._

_Touka let out a low whistle. “That’s pretty long. How old are you?”_

_“Sixteen,” he said._

_“Fourteen.”_

_Again, they lapsed into silence. Kaneki stood. “Tell the manager thank you. And, uh . . . I hope things get better for you.”_

_Her eyes went wide, as if surprised by his concern. He watched them gather a watery film, and she looked away, biting her lip in frustration._

_“Thank you,” Touka said._

_When he reached his aunt’s home that night, her husband—his uncle, somehow—pinned him against the wall. His hands smelled like drugs and blood. His aunt was stumbling towards him, anger coursing through her very being. “So you’ve been meddling at Anteiku,” she snarled. “That’s why. God, you’re so useless. Release him, Gou. I’ll call them. This won’t happen again.”_

_Kaneki found out much later that Anteiku had been burned to the ground not long after._

* * *

 

Hide checked himself in the reflection. He’d worn what he usually wore; bright colours in bad amounts, but decided that on a date, in the dark, he deserved to wear _even more._ Haise’s visually disabled eyeballs would have a fit when they saw him.

He jogged down the stairs, not even noticing Nishiki’s look of disapproval. The faster he got there, the better. This was a huge moment. After this, Hide could come home and believe that no, maybe Haise wasn’t related to any gangs at all.

* * *

 

_“Do you believe in ghosts?” Rize had asked him once. They were sitting at a table in Anteiku. By now, she was just a shell of what she used to be. Any kindness had been replaced by greed, and Kaneki felt like she was only around him to fatten him up._

_“No,” he said._

_Rize looked disappointed. “I do. I think we, as humans, make them.”_

_“Just because we’re haunted doesn’t mean ghosts are real. It’s all in the head.”_

_Rize’s smile sharpened until he felt like he was looking into the eyes of a gleeful, stalking lion. “Oh, Kaneki. What are ghosts if not lost souls who failed?”_

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who visited my tumblr! I actually love getting messages. 
> 
> Also thanks again to everyone that always comments (´∀｀)♡


	11. All We Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey its date night with goofballs and oh lord look at that ending (」゜ロ゜)」

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its me again yay  
> free period = writing and reading  
> I actually read it again whoo  
> also essays are done i haven't had more than 3 hrs sleep each night for 3 days this is the voice of the dead

“Hey,” the white-haired youth’s voice was faint in the speaker of his mobile. “I’m not coming in until morning.”  


“ _Oh? Getting some action at last, Kaneki?”_

Kaneki snorted, unimpressed. “I’ll be in around twelve, maybe one in the morning. I’ll take Ayato’s shift.”

“ _Yeah, because he’ll be pleased about that.”_

Kaneki stared down the alleyway. It had to be around five in the afternoon, now. He should get going soon.

“He can complain all he wants. He’ll be grateful to take a break.”

_“Well, if you say so, Big K.”_

Kaneki sighed. “See you in the morning.”

As he began to pull the phone away, Uta yelled, _“Wait! Wait. Shit, I nearly forgot. We got a message from V.”_

“Like what?” Kaneki hoped his lack of concern didn’t come through his voice.

_“You remember what Rize’s famous for, yeah? We found one of our members with it done to him. With a knife, though, so it wasn’t her. Pretty daring of them, don’t you think? What’s their goal?”_

“No idea,” Kaneki said. “Bye.”

* * *

Hide saw Haise from a distance, at first. The boy was leaning against the wall, beanie pulled lower than usual due to the chill in the air. He’d pulled a black scarf around his neck, the lower half of his face disappearing into its folds as he stared down at his phone. He wore a beige overcoat, which seemed to dwarf his small frame.

No, there was no one _that_ cute that could be a fucking gangster. Nope. Never.

“Haise!” Hide called, waving jovially. Haise’s eyes snapped up from his phone, scanning the Friday night crowd before they settled on Hide, standing out like a human torch. He’d gone with bright orange and yellow just about everywhere. He almost missed his favourite pair of three-quarter green pants, but sometimes winter was an icy bitch, and so he’d swapped them for grey full-length pants. At least his ski jacket was bordering on fluoro orange, though. Positives.

“Hey,” Haise said, shyly. He pocketed his phone. His cheeks were dusted in pink, the tip of his nose red from the cold. Hide nearly zoned out staring at the subtle colouring of his pale face.

“I already bought us tickets, so—”

“Wait, _what?”_

Haise instantly looked guilty. “I said I would, because . . . well, you invited me out. It was the least I could do.”

“That’s not—but I invited you! God, that was so rude of me! I’m sorry, the guest shouldn’t have to pay for the tickets, sheesh—”

Haise smiled meekly, holding out the ticket that said _CONJURING 1900._ Grumbling his discontent, Hide accepted the ticket. “I’m sorry, Haise. I shouldn’t have made you pay.”

“It was my choice,” Haise said. “But sorry for making you feel bad. Really, I just thought that it was really nice of you to ask me to the movies, so . . . yeah. I wanted to. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“At least let me pay you back!” Hide protested, following Haise into the cinema. He pulled out the money from his wallet and tried to shove it into Haise’s hands, who miraculously kept dodging him.

Sheesh, Hide thought. He couldn’t leave it at this. It would haunt him! No, he’d slip it into Haise’s pocket. Maybe that was selfish of him, Haise seemed to have only good intentions . . . no. _Hide_ had asked him here. _Hide_ had to pay.

His mother would be so proud.

“At least let me buy the food!” Hide was pretty stubborn, now. He wouldn’t let it go like his. He steered Haise towards the snacks bar. “Popcorn? Choc-top? Drink?”

“I’m . . . I’m fine, thanks, Hide.”

“ _Dude,_ are you making this hard or what?” Hide laughed nervously. “Come on, you have to eat _something_ at the movies!”

“Actually, my roommate force-fed me the food she made for _her_ date tomorrow,” Haise said nervously. Hide had noticed that whenever he spoke about his life that was a step away from what Hide knew, he always seemed to tense up.

“I had like, six different omelettes.”

“ _Man,_ ” Hide said, sighing. “That’s rough. I’ll get a popcorn, though, so if you get peckish during the film you can always eat it.”

Haise smiled. “Thanks, Hide.”

“So, you scared?” Hide said, recovering his optimism. Haise shrugged.

“I dunno. I hear it’s pretty terrifying.”

“I know! I saw the trailers. It looks _so creepy._ The chick and the nightgown and like, wow. Super creepy.”

“Mm,” Haise hummed, thoughtful. “And it’s packed full of jump-scares, too. Sorry in advance if I squeal.”

Hide grinned, slapping on the back. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you hold my hand when you get scared.”

Haise’s face turned red, but he didn’t freak out.

Hide was so proud.

Quickly he changed hands with the popcorn; some money for a worthwhile investment. They headed towards the cinema.

“Unless, I guess,” Haise said, “it gets a little bit out of hand . . .”

Haise waited for a laugh eagerly, but Hide could only stare in horror.

“You made a pun.”

“Yeah.”

“You made a _terrible_ pun.”

“Yeah.”

Hide stared at him a beat longer, before the laugh burst out of his mouth in what was probably the least attractive, slobbery, explosive way he’d ever had the pleasure to enact. He threw his head back, howling with laugher. Haise was laughing too. They weren’t even drunk; what was this?

“Oh, _man_ ,” Hide laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes as laughs continued to bubble out of his throat. “That was _so_ bad.”

“I know, right?” Hide could almost not even hear the shyness in his voice. He was smiling, albeit with a red face and sometimes-shaky voice, but Hide felt like he was growing on Haise the way Haise had been growing on him.

No, Hide assured himself. Haise wasn’t Kaneki. He had to be rational: keeping up two lives, living them so separately, so differently, and so well—that wasn’t a human feat. It couldn’t be done.

Haise was Haise.

Kaneki was Kaneki.

They sat themselves down in the murmuring of the cinema, the lights dimming as the trailers and advertisements began to play. In snatches, Hide glanced at Haise’s profile. Maybe they were similar. Maybe they were full of coincides.

But Kaneki was all about bright lights, late nights and dark, passionate violence. Haise was . . . Haise was bad puns and notebooks, early morning lectures and whispered phrases.

If Kaneki was a ghost, like he kept saying, then Haise was an aged, nostalgic photo.

Once Hide actually got caught up in the tense, suspenseful and _scary as fuck_ movie, he forgot all about his lifestyle troubles and was jumping out of his skin at every jump scare. The popcorn went everywhere. He resisted the urge to grab Haise’s still, calm arm _so bad._ No, he couldn’t give the punning mastermind that pleasure. Hide would be strong here.

He would— _HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS THAT FUCK—_

Every time the music would lower and Hide would get caught in that _painful_ climb in tension until suddenly BAM jump-scare. If he kept this up, he’d die before 30.

The next jump-scare was about the girl getting thrown around the house and _damn_ he swore he flew an inch into the air.

He nearly jumped again when Haise’s hand reached for his own, and Hide gladly accepted it, squeezing probably too hard. The instant after, he felt so embarrassed he felt his face turn on the stove to, like, 100 degrees Celsius. He glanced across to Haise, who was calmly watching the movie, the bright, moving screen glowing off the lenses of his glasses.

He caught Hide looking and looked away, face red.

Embarrassed but too afraid to do anything, the two of them watched the shit-scary in silence.

* * *

Hide was too afraid to move when the credits started rolling, already poised to take the next jump-scare _any second,_ but none came. Surely, there’d be that girl jumping through the screen to scare the departing audience and—

Nope. No jump-scare.

“Hide,” Haise whispered, face still red. When Hide didn’t move, he muttered it again, but sharper. “Hide!”

“No—don’t hurt me I’m too young to die!” Hide squealed, jumping from the sound. Despite this, he noticed how tightly he was still gripping onto Haise’s hand.

What did they do about this?

They both stared at their joined hands for a few long seconds. Hide’s eyes traced the curves of Haise’s thin fingers, the way his nails looked so perfect it was _illegal._ Did he even chew his nails? No? Wow. That was a skill.

In comparison, his hands screamed “village kid”. Tanned, used to being shoved into the dirt in the hunt for grubs, the nails worried away by university stress, pen callouses and everything else under the sun.

“Um,” Hide said, clearing his throat. “I guess there’s no rush.”

“Need a hand?”

“Oh my _God,_ Haise!”

Haise laughed softly and stood, gently prying his hand away. He stretched, reaching up like a cat. He’d draped his coat onto the empty seat in front, and without his usual baggy top Hide saw just how small he was in a simple shirt, buttoned up to the throat.

He adjusted his glasses, watching the end credits. “So, Hide,” he said, “good film?”

“I am never picking a movie for us to see ever again,” Hide whined, pulling on his ski jacket. “I full on _died._ ”

“It must have been a . . . _grave mistake._ ”

Hide was silent for a very long second.

“I will commit murder, you know.”

Haise laughed it off, shrugging on his coat and buttoning it up. “What can I say? I’m a pretty punny guy.”

“Haise, are you high again?” Hide asked curiously. Haise’s smile didn’t change.

“Nope.”

“Are you sure? You’re acting pretty trippy right now.”

“I swear, I have not had a single puff from a joint since that last time,” Haise said, pressing a hand to his heart. “I have not ingested any alcohol, either.”

“You’re quite bold after seven, aren’t you?” Hide wriggled his eyebrows. Haise’s face, which had already been pink, turned red to the tips of his ears. Hide gave a quiet laugh.

“It’s cool, man. We should do this again. How’s next week?”

They’d made it to the exit of the cinema, and the bright, outside light on Haise’s face was suddenly revealing to him deep bags under Haise’s eyes that Hide hadn’t seen. He didn’t see any discolouration, but—

Haise moved past that pocket of light, and the bags disappeared. Hide must have been on edge.

“I actually work on Fridays,” Haise admitted. “I asked to have today off, but sometimes . . . sorry, Hide.”

“Don’t sweat it!” Hide laughed, grinning to stop Haise feeling bad. He knew by now that Haise would be overly guilty about the whole thing.

Haise smiled gratefully. Hide, suddenly remembering the notes of cash in his pocket, waited for Haise to look away. Surrounded by the departing movie-goers, he slipped the money into Haise’s pocket without the boy noticing.

“Maybe another time? Weekends aren’t that good . . . Wednesdays I’m free,” he went on, seemingly oblivious.

“Wednesdays are good for me, too!” Hide yelled. “Let’s see another film next Wednesday! And we have Creative Writing last, too—or, I do, at least.”

Haise smiled. “Creative Writing is my last lecture, too.”

“Yeah!” Hide pumped the air. “What movie do you want to see? We can come here again. Another horror? Wait, maybe not . . .” Hide ran a hand through his hair. He was flustered and talking fast. He was sure his face was red despite the chill that lingered through the opening and closing doors of the cinema lobby.

Haise’s smile was positively serene. “Maybe something with a lighter note next time.”

Hide nodded, feeling the gratitude settle over him. At last, someone who quietly accepted how bad he was with tension and jump-scares. “That would be good.”

Haise smiled. “So . . . um, I shouldn’t be out too late. Thanks for inviting me.”

“It’s cool,” Hide said, grinning ear to ear, and he _meant_ it. He was happy. He was _so_ happy that Haise had come with him to watch Hide creep himself out and also watch a movie about ghosts and hauntings and sick effects.

Haise was also not a gang member. That was something he was _so_ happy about. He felt certain about it. No niggling suspicions. No nothing. Haise was a pure cinnamon roll of a person that didn’t have a bad bone in his body, Hide was sure.

“See you at school on Monday, yeah?” Hide said, pushing the door open. Haise nodded, wrapping his scarf around his neck and burying his face into it against the cold.

“Yeah.”

“That new guy is pretty weird,” Hide said absently. “Like, he can speak fluent French. How weird is that?”

“Ha, yeah,” Haise agreed. “What was his name? Tsukiyama? He’s kind of creepy.”

“I guess . . .” Hide remembered the ice he’d seen behind Haise’s eyes that morning.

Maybe those niggling suspicions weren’t so dead and gone, after all.

Haise shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t think he’ll bother us that much.”

“Or you hope so?”

Haise shrugged. “You caught me.”

Hide smiled easily. “Okay, then. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

Haise saluted, before exclaiming, “Yessir!”

Hide laughed as they parted ways.

* * *

_When he first met Eto, he knew he was off the rails. Fresh out of hell and burning with the rage of the Almighty. Burning and burning until he knew there would be only ashes left._

_That’s what he was._

_Ashes of a long-dead flame._

_It was midday, and he was sitting alone in the bar. Helter Skelter, it was called. He was sipping his black coffee, trying to flush out the taste of iron in his mouth when she appeared in front of his table, as nimbly and silently as he liked to believe he was._

_She was short in frame, but her dark hair was long and wild, making her look almost bestial, or as if she had some form of otherworldly knowledge. She could have been a sorceress if Kaneki didn’t know better._

_He knew better._

_“Hello,” she said, standing. Her hands were clasped behind her back, making her seem much younger than she was. If it wasn’t for the sharpness to her gaze, Kaneki could have thought she was his age or younger._

_“Hi,” he said back. His coffee was nearly empty. He considered pretending to drink from the empty cup so he could avoid conversation._

_Something told him she’d see right through it._

_“You’re new,” she said. “You’re also very old.”_

_Kaneki, in all his emptiness, felt a chill down his spine. What did she know? Did she know everything? Or was it simply that she could see right through him?_

_“You’re young,” he said, smoothly, “but you’re also too old.”_

_Her mouth parted in an ear-to-ear grin. “Oh, that was good,” she said. “I’m Eto. Call me that. Nothing else. I lead a gang that teamed up with GLG called Aogiri. We’re mainly between the Eleventh and Thirteenth wards.”_

_“Good for you,” said Kaneki dully, sipping his cup to empty. “I’m Kaneki. Just stick with Kaneki. I’m a self-made contract hit-man. I got a job with GLG because the owner thought I was cute.”_

_Eto grinned, sitting herself down. “Say,” she said slowly, “what does Hell look like?”_

_Kaneki couldn’t even bring himself to feel surprised. Instead, he organised his face into a small smirk, filing muscles into the right tensions. Looking her in her green eyes, he answered._

_“It looks like Hell,” he said. “For all eternity.”_

* * *

__

Kaneki turned on his phone, standing under a streetlight in the quietest street he could find. It was nearly twelve. Tucking away his second phone, he waited for the relic to turn itself on.

Maybe he should upgrade.

It went into the technological equivalent of cardio arrest as it loaded all the missed calls. Kaneki sighed. It seemed like quite the events had happened whilst he was away.

_Uta (6)_

_Touka (4)_

_Ayato (1)_

_Itori (8)_

_Unknown (12)_

That was interesting. Who would know his number? He clicked on Uta’s messages first to see how bad it was. Uta usually gave a pretty good indication by how much background noise Kaneki could hear. The quieter, the less important.

Uta was a pretty ironic guy.

 _“Yo, Kaneki.”_ It started bad. He could hear the commotion of Helter Skelter from here. _“Itori recently got some news from Yomo. Apparently V’s been stealing away all the noticeable and profiled members of the stronger gangs. First was Rize, now’s that girl who was with the CCG . . . Ihei? Yeah, her. She’s gone. And a bunch of other ones, too. Call me when you get this. Itori wants to talk.”_

Sighing, he waited for the next to click over.

_“Hey, Kaneki. Uta again. Itori just roasted me about you not answering your phone. Anyways she says that apparently some V members were spotted around that guy . . . Tsukiyama? Yeah the one who hired you to be his bodyguard. He’s here, don’t worry, but she wants you to know. Call us.”_

Itori was lying. She baited him like that, sometimes. The V members were always around Tsukiyama, but he knew that Tsukiyama had been home all night tonight after Kaneki had seen him to his car after—

No. He just knew.

The next recording clicked over.

_“Okay, third message. God, what are you even doing? Even a fuckin’ gang bang doesn’t last this long. Wait—are you actually gang banging? Shit man—ow, Jesus Itori, fine—look, Itori says to get your arse over here.”_

God, how would the next three go? He watched his breath form clouds in the cold air as he waited. Staring up into the dark sky, he saw the first particles of snow begin to fall.

 _“ . . . yes, sir. Thanks. Okay, my man K, you’ve got to stop with the two phones business. We just received news that Big Madam has disappeared off the face of the earth. Crazy, right? That bitch couldn’t disappear if she fell in the_ ocean. _But yeah. Shit’s getting bad really fast, now. Itori wants you to come in.”_

Every one of the calls was full of noise. The bar was busy. When the bar was busy, it meant the streets weren’t safe. Kaneki watched snowflakes fall and dissolve onto the asphalt.

_“I’ve fucking called you five times. Jesus. Look, the CCG just went nuts. We have the entire First Division in the ward. Everyone’s here. Banjou’s worried about you. Jeez, Rize would be really handy around now.”_

Kaneki bit at his lip. Just hearing her name sounded unpleasant, as if it rubbed the wrong way against his eardrum. He tried to melt the snowflakes as they fell in front of his face. Maybe a blizzard would start and swallow him up where he stood.

He doubted it.

_“Ah, jeez. We can’t find Eto? Shit. Kaneki, you have to get here now. I’m not being that worried friend, but your double lifestyle can wait for now. The doves are everywhere. People want to leave, but Itori is afraid it’ll give the place reviews if they leave and get caught on the way home. Hurry up and be the ferrier.”_

It had come five minutes ago. Kaneki sighed heavily, dialling Uta’s number.

“Hey,” he said.

* * *

__Hide was walking home when he noticed it.

The notes had made their way back into his pocket. He stared at the two thousand yen note in his hand. How? When? Why?

Oh, he was _not_ going to stand for this. He was barely five minutes away from the cinema. He’d literally just put his hands in his pockets as the snow started to fall, and he’d found the money there.

He spun around and jogged back. Nope. This was a _date._ He wouldn’t let this slide. If it had been a dinner, Hide would have paid. Hide had invited him, so it was his responsibility. Dammit, Haise, making this so hard.

He blinked the snow out of his eyes, the cold air burning at his throat. Haise had gone the other way, so surely—

* * *

_“You’re Kaneki?”_

_This time, Kaneki was sitting at the bar, leaning onto it and resting his head on his hands. His rage was dwindling. He was a pile of ashes at the bottom of the abyss. He regarded the man who had approached him: tall, with dyed-purple hair and an outlandish dress sense that could only come from money and a closed social life._

_Kaneki sat up and nodded, turning around on the bar stool. “Yes. Hit-man, bodyguard or whatever you want, really, for hire. You are?”_

_“Ah, I’m Tsukiyama Shuu,” said the man, doing a small flourishing-bow. As he straightened, he began, “I’m not really here to hire your services, but—”_

_“Oh,” Kaneki said. “Then, if you’ll excuse me—”_

_“Wait!” Tsukiyama commanded, and Kaneki felt the slight burn of annoyance. It must have showed on his face, because Tsukiyama became apologetic. “I’m sorry. I simply meant to say that I know someone connected to you, and I was wondering if I could . . . hire you for a discount?”_

_“You just said—”_

_“I was going to say I was looking for them in relation to my father,” said Tsukiyama. “He’s aging, and he’s involved deep into the underbelly world. He’s not as strong as he used to be, and I want him to be protected. But, as I was saying—”_

_“You don’t strike me as the type to be needing a discount, thought,” Kaneki said, leaning back on the counter. “I can smell the money from here.”_

_Tsukiyama’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “Well, I suppose . . .”_

_“Enough. I don’t care. Who’s your ‘connection’?”_

_“It’s this woman,” said Tsukiyama. “We’ve been friends for ages, but our lives have diverged over the years to very different spectrums.”_

_“No need to write me a poem, just tell me,” Kaneki said, reaching for a cigarette. “Did she become Cinderella and you became the Stepmother but with drugs?”_

_Tsukiyama laughed heartily. “My, that’s a good joke. Actually, her name is Kamishiro Rize.”_

_Kaneki held the lighter to his cigarette too long, burning it down to the wick._

_Rize had remembered him, too._

* * *

__

Hide did not believe in many faiths.

He didn’t believe in faith.

He didn’t seek God or divine retribution.

He wasn’t exactly an atheist, he was just . . . Hide.

But standing on that corner, looking at the man in the side street, he prayed to God that it was a mistake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed~  
> Next chapter will be huehuehuehue  
> Thanks to everyone that always leaves comments and kudos, I really love getting them!  
> Because the weekend is here maybe a chapter a day ⌒°(❛ᴗ❛)°⌒


	12. The Nature of Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Hide's mother. Meet some more people. Make some revelations. Suffer. (Love you too).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's me again! aha who else is seriously screwed up from this week's chapter? aha... oh god

_If someone had asked him as a child if he was happy, he would have said ‘yes’. Of course he would have. If he had said no, he would have been seen as ungrateful. He couldn’t ask for anything more than what he had. He had a mother, a house, a family._

_Wearing long sleeves in summer didn’t bother him. Being bullied didn’t really bother him, either. They would always be there, desperate to hurt him. But he was okay with that: to be wounded rather than wounding. Instead of the one hurting others, he was the one getting hurt._

_“Nice people are happy with just that.”_

_Doing nice things for others made you happier too, they said. So he tried to be kind; he tried to put in the extra mile for others. He had to make sure they were happy first and foremost, because he was certain his happiness would follow. He was certain._

_He was sure that if he made his mother happy, that if he pleased her, he would be happy too._

_It was only when he grew older that he began to lose faith. He had never been happy. He was surrounded by despair and pain. What a laugh. When his mother died, he hated himself the most._

_Because he had failed her._

_She had become the one getting hurt when that was meant to be him. God, what had he done wrong? All the times Aunt Asaoka came asking for loans, all the times the kids ruined his books at school, all the times they wrote crude messages on his desk in the mornings—had it all meant nothing?_

_He had been so sure that by trying to please others, he would try to please himself._

_He had failed to please others._

_He had failed happiness._

_He no longer deserved it._

* * *

 

Hide had grown up in what he affectionately called ‘the hairy armpit of nowhere’. A small cluster of houses surrounded by rice fields and mountains and highways, where he would lie awake and listen to freight trains kilometres roar past, their echo passing over acres and acres of empty paddocks.

Every night, his mother would tuck him into bed. They’d talk about their days. He’d tell her about beetles and friends and how school was, what he wanted to do tomorrow, what he was thinking of. She’d sit there calmly, stroking his hair and watching with soft eyes.

His mother had always seemed too old. There were lines around her eyes and shadows in the hollows of her cheeks that seemed to reside there permanently. Despite this, she was always gentle and smiling.

When Hide got older, he began to realise that she was always afraid.

She loved his father. They were always out manning the fields, sitting in tractors or even just wading through the crops. He could still imagine her in crystal clearness: wide-brim straw hat against the blue sky, wearing a baggy ‘house rag’ t-shirt and shorts above gumboots.

It was like she’d lived there her whole life.

When he was around twelve, the conversations began to change. She would sit beside his bed in the dark and ask him how he was, and he would talk about how he suspected a teacher to be doing something with another teacher, or he thought that someone had hooked up or whatever. It seemed like any observational skills he had struck chords in her she didn’t like, because she began to lecture him every night about how to survive.

“Your rationality isn’t always the truth,” she often said. “Often, we’re just desperate to believe something that we warp our perception around it. Rationalise it. Make peace with it. Don’t talk yourself out of your suspicions, ever, Hide. Ever.”

As he got older, these bedside conversations became less common. His mother was always tired, and he was always up late working. Eventually, they stopped all together.

The damage was done, though. Hide knew he’d grown up to be just like his mother. He was always watching, always eager to know. He was always suspicious, always analytical. Her words were always in the back of his mind.

Don’t do drugs, stay in school, stay out of trouble, look after yourself.

“Look after number one.” That was her favourite phrase.

As far as Hide was concerned, he had no reason to ever want to look out for anyone other than himself. Everyone was distant. They had been that way since he had first observed how deep and detached their lives were to his. No matter how much he reached out, no connection ever seemed to stick.

“I want to go to high school in Tokyo,” he said one night over dinner.

He’d never had a bigger argument.

He decided to go to the local high school instead, about forty minutes away by bike. Work was boring, teachers were from the city doing their first five-year period to earn a teaching license, so they were all young and hip and desperate to impress the students at the start, but quickly learned that enthusiasm didn’t get good grades for their students.

When he got his grades back at the end of the year, he saw he was eligible for a place at Kamii. He could sit an exam to get in. He was _that_ smart.

Of course, they’d had another argument.

At the end of it, his father didn’t really care where he went. Hide knew that he wanted him to pursue a better-paying career than farmer, which Hide was grateful for. His mother, on the other hand, seemed to detest the very thought of entering the capital.

“You will _not,”_ she repeated for the umpteenth time that night, “be going to that _damn_ city.”

Hide had fallen silent not long after. He didn’t enjoy arguing, which always surprised him. That, and any argument with his mother surely failed.

In the gap between school exams and entrance exams, there were two kinds of people: ones that studied like mad, and ones that partied.

Hide partied.

As much as his mother looked unimpressed with his behaviour, she couldn’t complain. It meant he was grounded in that place for the rest of his life. He could only receive snatches of her disapproving glare when he came out of his room in the afternoon for breakfast, reeking of beer and smoke.

Looking back on it, he did a shitload of dumb crap.

His father had a different view to where he wanted to go. Hide remembered it clearly, the way he had sat him down at the table whilst his mother was out buying groceries.

“Hide,” he said, voice gruff, “do you still want to go to Tokyo?”

“It doesn’t matter, Pops,” he said, laughing it off. “I’ll just stay here. Ma will be happy with that. I’ll just be that bad smell that ruins the crops all the time.”

His dad didn’t appreciate his humour.

“Your mother is very . . .” he gestured with his hands, unable to formulate a word. “ _Paranoid.”_

“Yeah, I know,” Hide said, sighing. “But it’s because she’s always worried.”

“Of course. She knows the horror of that city better than anyone.”

Hide nodded, mute. It was true: his mother had openly expressed what a vile place the capital was. She’d grown up there until she left at age twenty to travel around the country to try and escape that claustrophobic place, where she met his father at a fresh produce market.

The story was so mundane that Hide couldn’t help but laugh about it.

His dad shook his head. “Don’t let her stop you. I saw your grades. You could even apply for a scholarship and get it. You’re an _adult,_ Hide. Don’t let your mother order you around forever! Even Takashi is going to that silly university.”

“Yeah, because his uncle is a rich businessman!” Hide sighed, heavy. He wanted to go, he really did. But the idea of making his mother worry was heartbreaking. Could he really do that to the woman who raised him? To the woman who shared with him her deepest fears for him and how he always had to look after himself?

“Hide,” his father said, dead serious. “A train ticket to Tokyo won’t cause tears. If you get that scholarship, not even she would have it in her heart to deny you the chance.”

Hide chewed at his lips. Would he even _like_ the city?

“Just go,” his father said. “If you fail, you come back. If you don’t, then you start a new life.”

In the end, Hide listened to his father.

He’d gotten up early to board the train that morning, and his mother called him once he was rolling away from the platform, the sun barely risen. He’d spent the last ten minutes staring out the window in terror that she would come running up any second to drag him home by the tips of his badly-bleached hair.

 _“HIDEYOSHI NAGACHIKA!”_ she’d screamed. From there, it dissolved into angry crying with mutterings of ‘damn son’ and ‘idiot’. Hide could have sworn he cried at the same time. He wasn’t that embarrassed; there was no one else on the train.

“Hide, be _careful,_ ” his mother said. “Tokyo is dangerous. You don’t know what’s there.”

“I can look after myself,” he said reassuringly. “I’m a big boy.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. She sighed, clearly exasperated that she’d woken up with her son running away and her husband in on it too.

“Just . . . beware of anyone with the last name ‘Washuu’, all right? They’re a bad lot. Don’t you _ever_ get involved with them, okay? Ever.”

That was probably why Hide had never told her he got a job at the CCG.

He’d passed the exam brilliantly, got a two-year accommodation scholarship where he ended up rooming with another scholarship student who was a year older than him: Nishio Nishiki.

Takashi had been hardly good company, the parties hadn’t been nearly as wild as the ones he was used to, but with more shady deals. Classes were stressful, he was always broke and he lived off coffee and instant ramen.

It was everything Hide had expected and dreamed for.

Except for that one time he tried to be a saving grace, discarding his mother’s core values in the heat of the moment and in his newly-discovered freedom. A young girl was being hassled by a taller guy with slicked-back blonde hair with dark circles around his eyes. Did the guy even sleep?

“Come on, ‘Nami,” he purred, bending down into her face. She was a high-schooler, dressed in her uniform. Leaning back on the wall, books clutched to her chest, staring at her toes.

Hide had wanted to save her instantly.

“Naki, please leave,” she whispered.

“You _know_ you owe me,” he continued. He was so creepy Hide had to jump in. He saw here ‘Naki’s eyes were looking, and he could see where ‘Nami’ was wishing herself: away.

“Hey, man,” Hide said, sticking on his thousand-watt smile. “I think maybe you should lay off.”

When he saw Naki’s eyes, he noticed their unnaturally red colour, like rust. A shade of red a few hues too red for normal, which was only made worse by the red veins in his eyes.

“Oi,” said the man, straightening. “Mind your own business.”

He was taller than Hide, but not by much. Surely, Hide’s country upbringing could help. He’d wrestled kids and cows to the ground. Some good-for-nothing was okay, right?

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, still grinning. “I just wanted to maybe think now wasn’t the best idea.”

Yeah. Hide had the crap beaten out of him.

As Naki stalked off, the girl he had saved rushed over, tossing aside her books and pulling out her phone. Hide watched her through hazy vision as she yelled into the phone, asking for an ambulance. She seemed practiced at it. Surely not. She was too young.

Hide was ushered to the hospital with a concussion, several missing teeth and a ripper shiner. Fuck, his mother had been _right._ Look after number one, huh?

He didn’t regret what he’d done, though.

He never saw the girl again. Instead, he was visited by Amon who asked questions about the man—Naki. It was there Hide found out about the deep, shady gang worlds of Tokyo. It was a pretty crazy place.

“You’re a pretty smart guy, Hide,” Amon laughed good-naturedly. “You should work for us.”

“Can I?” Hide asked. “Like, really? Come on, man, I’m broke as fuck.”

Amon laughed again. “All right. I guess we could use a part-timer.”

* * *

 

_Bright silver eyes. Empty, empty, empty. Who the fuck was empty? Was Hide empty? Was Haise empty? Was everyone alive in this world empty?_

* * *

 

“You chose fucking Creative Writing?” Nishiki laughed at Hide’s book list. “I can’t believe you! I know you wanted Journalism, but why didn’t you do, like, Legal Studies? That definitely suits you more.”

“You wound me, Nishio!” Hide cried, gasping his chest in mock-hurt. “It’s almost like I’m trying to please my mother! Ah, woe is me!”

Nishiki snorted. “Suit yourself. Don’t come crawling to me when you wish you did medicine, though.”

“I would never go back on my choice! I am too young to regret!”

“And _how many_ stitches did you get that time, again? Oh, look! Trashika got beat up again! Oh, no!”

“It was _one time,_ man,” Hide said. “One time.”

Nishiki laughed. “When the shitty country hick tries to be a city boy.”

* * *

 

_What did this mean? What went on from here? Was time moving? Snow was falling, so something was working. Gravity worked no matter how fucked the world seemed to be. God, what was happening?_

* * *

 

 _“I hope you’re not making trouble,”_ said his mother on the phone. _“You are, aren’t you?”_

“ _Maaaaaa,”_ he groaned out. “Stop thinking so badly of me.”

“ _I’m just speaking from observation, kiddo. You’re a handful.”_

Hide sat cross-legged on his bed, his laptop propped on his pillow and his textbooks to his left. Everything was within reaching distance. On the floor in front of him were his coffee and a cup of instant ramen.

“I’m very diligent,” he said, reaching for his ramen, which was still steaming hot. “I’ve only had one exciting thing.”

“ _Oh? Do tell.”_

What? That he got a job at the CCG? That he got beaten up?

“I . . . I joined Creative Writing,” he said. That would do. “I thought of you.”

 _“Hide,”_ his mother pressed. “ _Don’t do things just because I like them.”_

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to study medicine,” he said, balancing the cup between his crossed ankles. “And it doesn’t seem that hard.”

 _“You just take your Forensics seriously,”_ she said. _“You probably need to work, don’t you?”_

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry.”

“ _Yes, be sorry. You ran away from a perfectly good farm, boy. Your father and I have been forced to interact openly. Isn’t that so weird? Like, he actually talks to me now.”_

Hide laughed. Maybe he felt a little bit homesick when he spoke to his mother like this.

“I should get working,” he said. “I’ll call you soon, okay?”

 _“Love you,”_ she said. _“Make some friends! Get good grades! Come home in the summer and help out, you lazy bum!”_

“I will,” he promised.

He hung up.

* * *

 

_What were ghosts? What were spirits? What were regrets? Why was it that he couldn’t move? Why was he so rooted to the spot? What had frozen him so suddenly? And shit, why did he feel betrayal in every cell of his body?_

* * *

 

Hide watched, frozen like his whole body had turned to ice. In the side street stood Sasaki Haise, holding a phone to his ear. He was dressed the same. He looked the same.

But Hide knew.

Snowflakes fell. Hide felt his breath hammer in his chest, felt the blood roaring in his ears, but he could not breathe.

He could not _breathe._

It seemed as if every molecule of his body ached with betrayal. It hurt.

It really hurt.

“Hey,” said Haise, into his phone. He wasn’t aware of Hide at all. Hide felt like a ghost, like he was seeing something he shouldn’t be.

“Yeah, I got them.” Haise’s voice was empty and tired. It was so, _so_ tired. “I’ll be over soon. Don’t let anyone else disappear.”

He lowered the phone, hitting the ‘end call’ button.

Time seemed to freeze around them. Hide stared, eyes so wide they stung, but he didn’t dare blink in case he missed something.

Haise stared at the screen of his phone for a long second. Slowly, his shoulders sagged and he sighed. He slid the phone into his pocket and rubbed at his face, pulling and tugging at the skin, brushing off all the powdery make-up Hide now knew he wore.

He ripped off his glasses and tossed them onto the asphalt. Hide heard them clatter, but his eyes remained fixed on the boy in the lonely side street.

Haise’s hand reached up and pulled of his beanie angrily. Beneath it, his hair was a shock of pure white.

Hide’s eyes stung.

Haise held his beanie in his hand above his head, arm shaking with emotions Hide couldn’t begin to fathom. He watched Haise’s eyes squint as the boy chewed at his lip angrily, before his hand stopped and he let the hat fall numbly from his fingertips.

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and leaned his head back. He took three long breaths, and Hide studied the shape of his moving ribcage. Even from there, Hide could feel the other boy sinking in exhaustion, in frustration, in anger.

In despair.

Haise dropped his arms and stared up at the sky for a long moment. Hide watched snowflakes kiss at his cheeks. He watched them sit on the ends of his delicate, translucent eyelashes.

Hide could see, now. He could see it all now from the unfavourable angle of the streetlamp: the sharp hollows beneath his cheeks, the darkening of the skin around his eyes. His lips were chapped and bitten. He was the very image of exhaustion.

His name was Kaneki Ken.

He straightened, shaking his arms out as if psyching himself up. He watched Kaneki gather up his dropped glasses and hat, shoving them into his pockets. He walked with confidence, now. He was not the meek Haise Sasaki. He was the notorious Kaneki Ken.

_Don’t talk yourself out of your suspicions, ever._

_Sorry, Ma,_ he thought numbly as he watched Kaneki disappear down the street. Everything inside him was humming like a struck cymbal; piercing, the sound filling up a space but it meant nothing more than a crash. His fingertips were tingling from the cold.

His eyes stung, and he wiped at them. Slowly, Hide let himself collapse against the fence behind him, rubbing at his eyes.

He hadn’t signed up for this.

He hadn’t signed up for this at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to everyone that comments and leave kudos! I love you all and you make my day every time （人´∀`*）


	13. When [He] Went Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hide is a bit of a stalker and Kaneki has problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I want you all to be warned: this chapter is, for a lack of a better term, pretty fucked up. To be honest even I as the writer feel this way, so be careful! I mean, it's integral to the story, but I'm nervous about posting it here. Other than that, if you'll notice I changed the rating to M and added some tags so please don't get angry at me. I'll warn you now that it is QUITE violent. I don't even know if that's a trigger or anything, but please proceed with caution!

_Her hand reached out as if to touch him, but then stopped. She stared down at her feet, sinking her teeth into her lip in frustration. “Are you . . .” her voice shook dangerously. “Are you really Kaneki Ken?”_

_A tie to his past. He should hate her. He should get rid of her. He should cut all ties. Start again. He was someone else now._

_He should._

_But he couldn’t._

_“Yes,” he whispered. The idea, the concept that he had been not like this before . . . how had he even lived before? The idea was distant, impossible to him. It was like he had been trapped like this since the day he was born._

_Maybe he really had been ‘reborn’ on that table._

_“It’s me,” he said. “Kaneki.”_

_She looked up at him, eyes watering. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. Everything was so expressive and passionate about her. She had rage, a desire to live the way she wanted and she didn’t accept it any other way._

_It was beautiful._

_“What did they do?” she demanded, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. From beneath the messy bangs of her hair, he could see the redness in her cheeks, the way she gnashed her teeth. She felt anger. Anger for him. Anger with justice. A sense of moral values. She was filled with justice and fire and good intentions._

_He was just flames eating away at the oxygen in his lungs._

_“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It was my own fault.”_

_He walked past her, leaving her seething about his own injustices. How could someone so filled with honesty be a key player in their lives, so filled with deceit?_

_“Are you just going to accept it?” she demanded, whirling around. “You’re just going to accept what happened? Aren’t you angry? Don’t you have something to . . . to say? To do about it? How can you just . . . doesn’t what they took from you matter? At all?”_

_He sat himself down on the chair, feeling his bones sink into it. “What of worth could they possibly have taken from me?”_

_“Idiot!” she screamed. She stared down at her feet, hunched over in anger. “How_ dare _you say that about yourself! Don’ you know what you did for people? For me?”_

_“I could do nothing for you,” he said. “I was weak and useless. All I did was have sad conversation with you and get Anteiku burned to the ground.”_

_Touka’s arms shook. “That conversation,” she spat, “gave me a reason to keep going, you moron!”_

_He watched her leave the room in a hurry._

_He wished he could understand how she felt. Every feeling seemed to stop in his gut and never reach any higher. His new stomach, his new heart, his new lungs—they didn’t have the capacity to feel emotion._

_Or maybe it was just him._

* * *

 

Hide lost track of how long he stood there, face pressed into his hands. The snow was icy, and he felt his feet beginning to numb. He hadn’t dressed for a night out in the snow. He’d dressed for a movie date with a cute bookworm kind of guy that so wasn’t a bookworm—in fact, he was actually a criminal. To what extent, Hide wasn’t sure. A dealer? A killer? Shit, who was Kaneki Ken?

Moreover, what the fuck did he do now? Was he meant to go after him and embrace him and shout about how he would accept his true love no matter the cost? Who did that? Was that what he was meant to do? Was this true love? Yeah, he thought Saskai Haise was probably the most gorgeous kid he’d ever met, and Kaneki was _Kaneki,_ but . . .

Jesus, what a time to be getting cold feet.

Conversely, what if he just went home? What if he went home and decided to forget about this whole thing? What if he went to class on Monday and thought that hey, maybe he was wrong about the whole thing and it was just a bad, bad dream. Yeah.

Or what if he just pushed Haise out of his life? That’s what his mother would say, dammit.

Hide took a deep breath. No. No, he wouldn’t allow this. He had to find out. Even if the truth was so horrifying that he ran away and moved back to his farm where the gangs would never reach him, he would find out who Kaneki Ken was. He would find out why he went to Kamii under a fake name with makeup and a disguise. He would find out why he lived that life. He would find out what he did. Why he did it. What his goal was.

He would find a way to save him.

Hide shuddered. He was so doomed.

He started in the direction he’d seen Kaneki going. He’d been on the phone with someone who Hide guessed was his employer. _This_ was the job he had on Fridays. Hide could only guess with a heavy heart what it entailed.

He felt the shivers in his system, but not from the cold. They seemed to tingle with the fear and dread that built up in every channel of his body, to the tiny fibres of his muscles that trembled.

How long had he been there, slumped against the wall? He had to find Kaneki. He had to find him _now._

Thin, Hide, think! Where were most gangs located? The dodgy district? Where was the dodgy district in Tokyo, shit! He wished he’d paid more attention to what Takizawa and Akira had been arguing about. Where would he go?

_The 24 th ward._

Yes, that was where Akira had been adamant about. She was _certain_ something was happening there, and had contacted the 24th ward branch of CCG. He remembered, thank God!

He began to wind his way through the smaller streets of the University Sector, looking for a main road to take him to where he had to go. It was at times like these he wished _he_ were a local since birth, so that he could find his way around this maze.

He heard the whistle of a bus going by, and stumbled onto a main road. The lights were reassuring, and he looked up and down the road still bustling with people on a Friday night.

A shock of white hair jumped out at him down the sidewalk.

He started after it, any worries shoved into the farthest recesses of his mind. There was no use regretting anything now. He had to do it. How else would he deal with this problem if he didn’t know what he was dealing with?

If Kaneki were a high-profile member, then he would be on the lookout for people following him. If this was the case, then Hide had to be on guard. He knew his hair and its garish shade of fried-hair-orange, would stand out. On top of that, he was wearing a fluoro orange jacket. He had _not_ planned for this.

He shrugged off his jacket. Surely, it was reversible or something?

Nope.

“Tch,” Hide muttered. What else could he do? He dug through its pockets, looking for anything that would help him. Surely, there was a bag or something he could put in like a puffy jacket, right?

Nope.

Dimly, he recalled his mother’s disapproval of bright colours.

_Okay,_ he thought with exasperation. _No coat!_

He tied it around his waist, making sure to stay with the crowd of people. Under the canopies of umbrellas and the general eccentric crowd of Tokyo’s patrons, he couldn’t be standing out _that_ much. Besides, he doubted Kaneki would be looking anywhere below face-level.

Still, he had to be careful.

He locked his eyes on that head of glowing white, watching him duck through people with the ease and grace of someone practiced at the art of disappearing. Breathe, Hide commanded himself. He knew he had to sideline anything else he was thinking other than _follow._ If he didn’t, he’d just be putting himself in danger.

God, sometimes he was weirdly grateful for his mother.

He kept following down the street, following Kaneki around corners and tried to figure out where the alleys that the boy cut through would lead. Most of them were shortcuts that Hide took the next alley to get to. Every time he did, his nerves went into haywire. There was nothing safe about the district they were heading into. It was increasingly dodgy.

Eventually, Hide watched Kaneki enter a bar called _“Helter Skelter”._ Like Akira had suspected, they were in the 24th ward. Hide swallowed. Okay, so now he knew where Kaneki went. What now?

_What now?_

Hide scanned for a place where he could watch without being seen. He ended up on the other side of the road, next to the opposing buildings. Rolling around rubbish bins so that he could crouch behind one and look through the gap between it and the wall next to the nearest building, he hid. Any second now, Hide was sure someone from the staff body would come out and yell at him.

God, Kaneki could live there. He could maybe not come out until morning. Maybe he wouldn’t.

Then, Hide heard voices talking in the entrance of the building he had crouched next to, and an instant later three men in grey, CCG uniform were walking in front of the gap he’d stopped in.

Hide swallowed hard. If they found him, if they reported him to Akira and Amon . . .

No, surely they wouldn’t. That would be so weird. As if they knew who he was.

Even so, Hide made sure to stay extra still until they were gone.

If the CCG were there, it meant something had been happening around the area. Shit, was his phone still off from the movies? Jesus, Hide! How stupid could he be?

It was too late to turn it on, anyway.

If Kaneki took longer than half an hour, Hide told himself, then he’d head on home.

* * *

 

Kaneki rolled his shoulders as he entered the bar. It was bustling with people. Itori must have been having the monthly get-together or something. He rubbed at the back of his neck. He’d had the feeling of being followed since he’d left the—

Since he called Uta. Since he called Uta, he’d had that feeling.

Upon entering, he was immediately swarmed by Itori, who promptly yelled at him for the next five minutes straight with the usual ‘ _where were you?’_ and _‘do you even have a job?’_

“Sorry, Itori,” he murmured. “I did say that I couldn’t come in, though.”

“Yeah, but what of value takes _that_ long?” She’d ditched her usual black dress in favour of a puffy jacket and pants against the cold. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. She’d been out, recently. Surveying the area, probably. She was one of the few key members that didn’t have her face known. Kaneki was fairly certain that no one even knew she existed.

“I dunno,” Kaneki shrugged. “I’ll go get changed. Who’s up first?”

“Uh, that rich idiot from Ward 1. You know how he is.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Consider it payback. You don’t know it either.”

“He only has to know me,” Kaneki shrugged. “Tell him to get ready.”

Standing in the changing room, Kaneki took extra time to get rid of the makeup Touka had dressed him with earlier that evening. He knew there was a reason, but he’d put it in the ‘other’ area of his mind. It was for the best. When he was working, he couldn’t afford to think like . . . _that._

Happy with how sickly he looked without layers of concealer, he changed into his usual gear that he always kept there: black jeans, black turtle-neck, neck scarf. This clothing was much better suited to him. He felt _ready_ in those clothes. By day, his make-up was his costume. By night, he had his mask.

“ _I’ll make you a mask one day,”_ Uta had told him. _“I’ll even model it off that scarf of yours. It suits you, that design.”_

Kaneki didn’t really need any more masks.

He jogged down the stairs, seeing his familiar client wrapped in warm clothing. He had drawn a scarf over his own mouth and nose, and wore some dark glasses. Kaneki knew the deal: walk him two hundred metres away from the bar to his chauffer. Because of Itori’s policy, no one was allowed to be seen ‘arriving’ at the bar for security reasons.

It was probably the only reason that they hadn’t been found out, yet.

“V is everywhere,” Itori warned him. “I told Ayato and Touka that you wouldn’t let them out, and, well, they weren’t happy. I sent them home. I think if V didn’t see them with any members, they’ll be fine.”

Worry twisted in Kaneki’s gut, but he swallowed it. What Itori knew was his disadvantage.

“Understood,” he muttered. Turning to his charge, he did a brief bow. “I hope the usual will suffice, sir.”

“You won’t charge extra?” said the man, curious if not unimpressed. His coat was voluminous over his slim frame, drowning him out. Kaneki gave a thin smile.

“Their killing of me is only a bonus.”

* * *

 

Hide felt like he’d been there forever when the door to the bar finally opened. He saw a tall man that seemed to be rather large—or maybe that was just his over-garments—and Kaneki, dressed in his dark clothes. So Kaneki worked there, after all. Or maybe he lived there, too.

Hide watched the pair progress down the street. Around here, there were little to no crowds for Hide to hide behind. Shit, what did he do?

Once they were past, he crept out of his hiding spot to the mouth of the alley, staring down the road until he saw what he suspected was their destination: a dark car parked on the edge of the busier road that this one intersected with. Hide swallowed. He could hear snippets of their conversation, but he needed _more._ He had to follow them. Was Kaneki going to accompany the guy home? Was he going to kill the guy? What was happening?

Hide looked up and down the quiet street, save for the hustle and bustle behind closed doors and fogged windows. The snow had begun to build up as a thin film over the ground, barely anything that would help him or be a disadvantage.

Slowly, Hide undid the jacket around his waist. He couldn’t afford to be fluoro orange now. He set it on the bins beside him, planning to come back and get it later. It was cold, but he had begun to grow used to it.

Hide set out a mental plan: as they got close enough to the busy street, Hide would go to their side of the road. Until then, he would creep along behind them, hiding whenever he could. Something told him that Kaneki would be _very_ observant as he did so.

He leaned out, and when he was certain Kaneki and his partner has passed sufficiently, he crept along the shadowy wall, carefully overstepping the stairs to the next alley, where he waited until he felt comfortable again. Rinse, repeat.

His chest felt tight from forcing down his heavy breathing. Shit, if he breathed too much, would Kaneki see that cloud of warm air leaving his mouth?

Once again, Hide watched them grow ever closer to the busier road. God, that place looked so much safer, now. From where he was, Hide saw a line of similarly parked cars along the side of the road. They’d parked next to a restaurant.

Was Kaneki just . . . walking them to their cars?

That would mean that Kaneki was simply ferrying patrons from the bar he probably worked at to their own respective chauffers. It was a service. Kaneki was a temporary bodyguard. That had to be it, right?

Kaneki stopped, holding open the door for his customer to climb into the car. Once the man was seated, he handed Kaneki something Kaneki assumed was money. Hide breathed out. For whatever reason, it hadn’t been happening before Kaneki started, because his partner got in the same car.

Hide watched Kaneki walk all the way back to the bar, alone. His client drove off.

Within a few minutes, Hide saw Kaneki make the same walk with someone else. This time a woman. The way she walked, that familiar kind of elegance, reminded him somewhat of that woman he had met in the bar. What was her name? Jeez, he couldn’t remember.

Kaneki walked the same way. Deposited her in a car. Received payment. Rinse, repeat.

Why? What use would there be in doing this? Hide was stumped. Could it be because of the CCG about? Was that it? Was he escorting known and dangerous criminals to their cars?

Was he _guarding_ dangerous criminals?

What did that make Kaneki?

Biting his lip, Hide took the window of time from when Kaneki went into the bar to when he exited with another client to move along the street. He lost count of how many times he moved up a block. He lost count of how many times Kaneki ferried someone else new and equally dangerous. Nothing had happened. So, what was going on?

As he neared the end of the street, Hide decided to cross the road. There, he rearranged bins quietly and quickly so that he was essentially sitting in a small box nestled against the dumpster from the restaurant on the corner. He’d made sure no cars had seen him when he moved.

He crouched and waited for Kaneki’s approaching footsteps. This time, he could hear their conversation: another man.

* * *

 

“Has anything happened out there yet?” Itori asked as she readied another departing guest. She’d tidied up and changed outfit: make in her usual dark garb, she looked like the gang-operating bar-owner she really was. She looked positively scheming.

“No,” Kaneki admitted. But he _had_ felt that same prickle on his neck, the same tingle down his sides. Someone was watching his every move.

He suspected V.

“But I’m sure there’s people out there.”

Itori hummed, giving the client a kiss on the cheek in departure. “Until next time, Mister.”

Kaneki didn’t remember this one’s name, either.

Someone from the rich section, the part Tsukiyama used to be part of before the CCG tore down his family home and arrested every servant in his house. They used to gather together and watch petty criminals face off dangerous tasks. They always died.

Kaneki thought of the time itori had him infiltrate the place. That had ended well, hadn’t it?

“A pleasure to see you again,” said his client. He offered Kaneki a cigarette from an ‘up market’ label. He winked at him. “I heard you smoked.”

“I do, yes,” Kaneki said, accepting one. He lit it with a quick flick of his lighter, eager to have his hands empty. The familiar distaste filled his lungs. It felt no different to the ones he usually smoked from the convenience store.

He didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “Thank you.”

They progressed a few steps in silence, before his client started up again. “I was talking with one of the Madams earlier,” he said, “and she was wondering what it took for you to do private business. What is it, pray tell?”

“I don’t do private work, my apologies,” Kaneki admitted. “I work only through the GLG.”

“Shame,” said the man. “We'd really pay you well. People of your kind are . . . difficult to come by.”

Yeah, just because _those two_ only worked for Kanou. He was a prized commodity, after all.

“I understand,” said Kaneki numbly. “If I ever decide to work privately, I’ll let you know.”

A flash of movement caught his eye: something on the rooftops. Someone was here. Had they been the one setting his nerves off all along? He wasn’t sure.

“We’re being followed,” he said quietly to the ‘Mister’ with him. “I suspect it’s V. Let’s slow our pace so they don’t get to your car.”

Concern began to enter the man’s chubby face. He nodded curtly. “I agree. I do hope you’re . . . well, armed?”

_Yes, I have two arms at the moment,_ Kaneki resisted the urge to spit. Dealing with these kinds of people set him on edge. He knew what they’d do to him if they had the chance. Just for pleasure. Just like that fucking psycho—

There was a rustling of fabric in the alleyway beside them. Kaneki stopped.

“Mister,” he said levelly, “I think there’s someone there.”

That was the place. His nerves had been screaming about it. The alleyway behind the restaurant. Every hair on his body stood on end from that place. Something was _here._

“If we continue quickly, don’t you think—”

Kaneki spun the instant he heard the struggle. A darkly-clothed figure was pressing a gun to the Mister’s head, ready to shoot. In an instant Kaneki pulled the man’s wrist away towards his feet, where he fired onto the concrete beside him.

Kaneki grabbed the V member’s hand and twisted, before kneeing the man in his twisted joint. There was a tight whimper of pain before Kaneki grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the alley wall behind him, cutting off any scream he could have done.

“Stand off the road,” Kaneki commanded. “There may be more.”

His client hurried into the shadows behind him. Now Kaneki knew what was coming. A request. “Show me how to . . .” fill in the blanks. Something was coming.

His client closely examined the suffocating man. Now that his hood had fallen off, he was simply a man in his mid-twenties, too skinny with dark hair. He must have been dragged into V after causing too much trouble.

“This is V, isn’t it?” Mister said, pinching the man’s chin. Kaneki watched his eyes bulge dully. It took around three minutes to suffocate someone from this method, but he would lose consciousness in around fifty seconds.

“It is,” Kaneki affirmed.

Mister spat at the man’s feet. “Mongrels. Took the beautiful Rize away from us. Itori even told me they’d been copying her technique as a message to us! They make me sick!”

Kaneki loosened his grip ever so slightly. He saw the blood rush back into the man’s face as oxygen entered his blood stream. Kaneki felt distant. Had he really become so used to being this . . . soulless?

As if someone like him had a soul.

“Teach them what Rize _really_ does,” commanded Mister, stepping back. Anger was flowing in his voice like a vicious undercurrent to a river, tearing through the rocks at the bottom. “Use him as a message to V.”

“With all due respect, Mister,” Kaneki said evenly, “I do have clients after yourself.”

Kaneki heard the hit coming before he felt it. A vicious backhand across the cheek. It stung.

A little.

“Are you refusing my request, _Kaneki_?” The man leaned forward, breathing into Kaneki’s ear. Kaneki kept his eyes trained on his victim. He wouldn’t look. Maybe today, he didn’t want to kill so badly. Maybe he wanted to think about terrible horror movies and—

_No._

“Kaneki,” said the man angrily into his ear. It was almost a growl; low and smooth, but reverberating with anger. “Are you familiar with a girl called . . . my, I believe she goes by the name ‘Nami’ to us, yes? So, Kaneki . . . what if I told you that, well . . . I _know_ where she goes to school every day? What if I told you that?”

Kaneki dropped the cigarette he’d forgotten he was clenching in his free hand. It was like a switch. An off-switch to himself.

“As you wish,” he said. “But please, stand back. It’s messy.”

* * *

 

_“As you wish,”_ Kaneki whispered. “But please, stand back. It’s messy.”

Hide held a hand pressed against his mouth as he watched the situation unfold. From where he was behind the garbage bins, he saw Kaneki’s back and the taller, larger man he was escorting. What did they mean? Rize—that had been the name of the woman he’d met, he was sure. The one that was a ‘straight-up, open serial killer’.

Hide could have screamed.

His nerves were fried. First, from the movie. Then he’d seen Haise’s true identity, and now—

Oh, God.

He could only watch in silence as in a violent, hurried away, Kaneki angrily pressed his mouth against his choking victim’s, paused for a moment, and then tore his head away angrily.

Hide heard the splash of blood before he saw it.

Kaneki reached up and took the muscle from his mouth. Holy shit, the guy had _bitten off the man’s tongue._ Over his shoulder, Hide could see the bloody maw that was the victim. Hot tears seared his cheeks. What the fuck was Hide looking at?

Kaneki threw the man onto the ground, where he writhed with air and then choked on the blood in his mouth. Kaneki, now turning sideways, had a similarly bloody face. He spat the blood from his mouth—terrifyingly, in Hide’s direction.

Hide felt like he was watching a pure nightmare.

Next, he watched Kaneki pull a small blade from his belt and then sit, straddling the man’s hips and pushing him into the ground. With his armed hand, he slit the man’s neck open.

Kaneki sat there for a few moments, completely still, before he was satisfied with how utterly _dead_ the V agent was.

He stuffed the disembodied tongue into the man’s gaping second smile.

He stood and wiped his hands on his pants. “There. It’s done.” Smooth. Empty. _Soulless._ Hide couldn’t think. What the fuck? What the _fuck? What the fuck?_

“You seem to know how she does it quite well, the lovely Binge Eater.”

Kaneki didn’t reply. “I’ll see you off now, Mister. Just for your notice, I’ll charge extra for that.”

“But of course!” said the man, following the stoic Kaneki out of the alley. “I would think no less!”

As soon as they were gone Hide stood. He had to get away. He had to leave. He couldn’t bear to look at the brutal _murder_ that had just taken place. What the fuck was happening? People received _therapy_ for less than this!

He couldn’t care about stealth. He had to get away. Shit, how had he got here? Where did he go? He felt like he was boxed in: Kaneki, Haise, murder, gang, Kaneki, Haise, murder, gang.

What the fuck had he done?

He stumbled down the road. Nothing seemed to click in his whole body. In the distance he saw that _stupid_ glow of the fluoro jacket he’d left. He ran towards it, feeling like his legs would give out any second. He needed it. He _needed_ it. He needed that stupid nod to normalcy. He needed something not stained in blood and murder and deceit and—

“Hide?”

Hide froze. Everything turned to ice. Every cell froze in its tracks. He felt like his body was breaking, like every system was shutting down until he just _stopped_ right there.

He turned around slowly, and saw the bloody face of Kaneki Ken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . yes. That happened.  
>  Oh, God. I'm actually super concerned about this chapter. I feel like I should have toned it down but, like, y'know . . .  
> I hope you still like the story and don't hate me? Please?


	14. Lifeforms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> breakups are rough when one of you is a serial killer i guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wouldya look at this i wrote 3,000 words of hidekane stuff instead of revising for an exam oh god
> 
> well i won't regret

_Hide watched Kusumi cry beside him on the canal. The sun was setting, and he had an arm over her shoulders. In their little pocket of nowhere, he held her in silence._

_She’d been dumped by her boyfriend, Takashi._

_Her sobs were always quiet. She was a deeply quiet person, Kusumi. She used to be boisterous, but after her mother’s remarriage, she’d grown distant. Hide had his suspicions, but he had long realised it really was just crushing loneliness._

_“Thanks, Hide,” she muttered against him. “You’re always here for me. Thank you.”_

_“You’re welcome,” said Hide, smiling brightly. The more happy things she had in her life, the better. Hide thought that every time they were around each other. If Hide had gone to Tokyo Central High School like he’d wanted, he wouldn’t have been here to comfort her at that moment._

_She sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “It’s so dumb,” she admitted. “That I’d cry over an aresehole like him.”_

_Hide grinned. “He is a douche, isn’t he?”_

_Kusumi gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah,” she agreed. She slowed her breathing, leaning back and tilting her face into the golden rays of the setting sun, as if she were trying to suck up its warmth through her pristine pores._

_“Will you stay here?” she asked softly. “Stay here with us? It will be a cloudy place without you, Hide. Tokyo’s sun never shines through the pollution.”_

_Hide threw himself back, lying on the steep slope of the grass. “I want to go,” he admitted. “Ma doesn’t like it, though.”_

_“Mm,” she hummed. “Your mother’s right. Tokyo is full of bad people.”_

_Kusumi had gone to grade school in Tokyo before her family split. Her mother took custody of her and moved back to where she’d been from, the country. It made integrating into a country environment very hard for Kusumi, and as such she’d struggled to make friends._

_She had, though. Hide was glad._

_They’d met at the bus stop one night on the way back from school. She only needed it for a few stops, not the distance Hide usually took during winter._

_“What’s your name?” he asked one day, trying to not look like he was hitting on her. “Mine’s Hide. I’ve been here forever. You’re newish, right? From Tokyo? Must be a change, right?”_

_Kusumi started crying before she could respond._

_Hide remembered fondly how bad he’d freaked out, thinking he’d done something wrong. In the end, they ended up becoming best friends shortly._

_She was, as Hide liked to say, a connection._

_But it felt like even she was always an arms length away._

_“You should stay,” she said, dropping back to her elbows as she watched the sun set. Her lashes were long and dark, like her hair. “Without you and Takashi, there will be nothing here.”_

_“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Hide laughed. “I have to actually sit the finals, first. You do, too. Hey, maybe you could come with me.”_

_Kusumi laughed. “As if someone like_ you _would fail the tests. Even if you did, the Federal Police or something would come and drag you in—maybe even the CCG! Imagine that!”_

_Hide sighed contently. “Yeah,” he murmured into the stillness of the memory. “Imagine that.”_

* * *

 

_“Hide,”_ said Kaneki, voice ringing like an empty glass. “What are—what are you doing here?”

His face was covered in blood. It flowed over his chin, down his neck, over the front of his clothes. Blood, blood, blood. Someone else’s blood.

Could he have done that to Hide back then when they’d first met? Was that what he’d been thinking at the time?

Surely not, right?

Right?

Hide tried to force words from his throat, but failed. Nothing would come. Nothing word form coherence. He was lost in shock.

Kaneki reached out as if to get his attention, but then stopped. He must have seen the blood all over his hands and decided against it, dropping his hands to his sides.

His nails were black.

Were Haise’s nails black too?

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Kaneki whispered. “You’ve been following me since . . .” his voice dwindled, as if he was scared of the thought.

He could kill a man in cold blood but couldn’t deal with Hide following him?

“What _are_ you?” Hide said sharply. It came out hard and accusatory, but he wouldn’t have it another way. Kaneki shrunk away from his words.

“I—”

The reaction started it. Hide realised, now, that it _hurt._ He’d cherished moments with Sasaki. He’d thought they _meant_ something. And now, despite any rational fear he was burning and seething with anger. Was this what it meant to not hold someone at a distance?

Hide wanted none of it.

“You—you fucking—just, the guy, and . . . you . . .” Hide balled his fists. In contrast to his anger, Kaneki straightened and turned around. Hide could only stare at those broad, dark shoulders.

“No one _asked_ you to accept this,” he said. His voice, like Hide always noticed, was smooth and even. Absent of feelings. Absent of guilt. It sounded like it came from an empty, empty vessel with someone whispering at the far side. “No one _asked_ you to come.”

Hide bit his lip. He wanted to scream, or shout, or _anything._

Kaneki sighed. He pulled out a cigarette, and Hide watched the plume of smoke trail into the dark sky in front of him. “The last thing you’d want is some comfort from a man covered in blood,” Kaneki said. “If you leave now, I promise that no harm will come.”

What was he asking of him?

“If you turn around now and go back to that student life, no harm will come to you,” Kaneki went on. “I’ll leave it, your life. I’ll have never been part of it. I won’t interfere. It’s fine; sell me out. I don’t mind. You can be a normal student with normal friends and normal parties. I won’t take that from you.”

“What?”

“Just . . . please leave, Hide.” Kaneki held his cigarette but had yet to take a drag from it. It just stayed in his pale hand, still and creating smoke. “You saw it, right? This life I lead. It won’t benefit either of us if you linger here.”

“Who is Sasaki Haise?”

The words were out of his mouth before Hide could stop himself. His hands were shaking. Everything was shaking. “What about him? Do _you_ believe in ghosts, Kaneki? I do. I believe in them because every time I see you I’m _looking_ at one. You’re just . . .” Hide was so angry, and he felt so bad. He was guilty. He had no right to critique Kaneki’s life, but every bubbling, thick, ugly thought came to his mouth and he kept talking.

“What’s the point of having a living, breathing, perfectly healthy body if you’re so dead behind the eyes?”

Kaneki made no response. Finally, he sucked in the smoke from his cigarette. He held it for a few long seconds before he blew it out. Hide felt like his anger was being blown away like that smoke. God, he was so useless. Complaining to a fucking serial killer that they had no feelings. How could they? How could he try and deal with liking Sasaki Haise if the boy was just a ghost? Kaneki was a ghost, too; Ghost boys and ghost people.

Everyone was a ghost long dead behind beating hearts and breathing lungs.

“What _is_ the point?” Kaneki agreed distantly. “But you know, Hide, ghosts are real. We make them every second of every day. A decision you make can cost someone else’s life. Every second of every day, Hide, part of you dies. When you get old that you don’t fear death because every part of you is already long gone.” His voice was empty. It wasn’t even bitter.

Kaneki looked over his shoulder. His eyes were flat like the surface of the moon; scarred and distant and only visible when the much more noticeable sun was out of the sky. They were dead and cold, without oxygen or atmosphere, just a chunk of lifeless rock floating around Earth. Cold and alone.

“It’s fine. I doubt I was worth your time, anyway.” Kaneki started across the road, his cigarette stuffed in his mouth. “Thanks for what we had.” He waved over his shoulder.

Hide balled his fists. This was so fucked up.

“I swear, you—” Hide glared at the ground. “Fuck it! Fine then, _Kaneki Ken._ Have it your way. I’ll go back to my student life! I’ll go back to the CCG! And you know what? I’ll fucking _wait_ for you to come back, you hear me?”

Hide stormed off. He hated himself. He hated himself _so much._ Someone had _died_ and here he was caring about the killer, holy shit. That one, tiny part of his brain was still whirring, desperate to find a reason, to paint Kaneki in the right colours to make him a human being again. It was trying so hard, and Hide gave in. He wanted Kaneki to be painted in those colours. He wanted Kaneki to be good and beautiful and he _wanted_ to fucking love Kaneki Ken. He wanted to.

But it was so, so wrong, wasn’t it? To love a monster?

Hide shrugged his coat on. Men and monsters, what was the difference anymore?

* * *

 

_“I won’t be coming here anymore.” Kaneki sat at the bar of Anteiku, sipping his warm coffee. “My Aunt found out that I’ve been here. I’m always late for deliveries because I come home late. She . . .” Kaneki’s hands were shaking violently. God, he was so scared. He was so_ scared.

_Yoshimura gave a reassuring pat of his shoulder. “You can hide here, Kaneki.”_

_Kaneki searched his eyes for a lie, before glaring into his cup in frustration. “You don’t understand,” Kaneki insisted. “She knows this place. That’s why . . . that’s why I’m running away.”_

_He wished he’d done this sooner._

_Yoshimura was silent for a pensive moment while she dried glasses. “Where will you go?”_

_“I don’t know,” Kaneki admitted. “Anywhere but here.”_

_“Hide here,” Yoshimura said without looking up. “She’ll come looking, but she won’t find you. I can guarantee that.”_

_Breathing was so fucking hard._

_“I can’t,” Kaneki wheezed out. “Her connections are . . . powerful.”_

_“How do you know I’m not?”_

_Kaneki, against his better judgement, allowed a slim smile. “I don’t.”_

_“Learn to trust in others, Kaneki,” said Yoshimura. “I will promise you—I can swear on my life that you can stay here in peace. I’m sure Mrs Ryouko’s will is the same.”_

_Kaneki’s smile disappeared._

_What about Hinami? What about the little girl that he had been teaching how to read while he was here? What about that poor lapse of judgement that led to such an unnecessary and painful attachment for her? Didn’t she know?_

_Regardless, he wanted her to stay safe._

_Living at Anteiku was . . . it would be a dream._

_He was terrified of dreaming._

_Dreams always led to nightmares._

_“I . . . I can’t,” Kaneki said. Alone in the empty café, he felt small and open. His emotions were laid bare. He was so, so scared of tomorrow._

_If only tomorrow would never come._

_Yoshimura sighed. “I see,” he said. “It’s your choice. But, if you ever want to return . . . you can always come here. No matter the time. Here, have a key.” Yoshimura reached onto the keychain he kept hooked under the cashier and handed Kaneki a small, unused silver key. “Remember. Any time.”_

_Kaneki didn’t even feel ashamed that he was crying as he accepted the key. He’d never received this kind of compassion before._

_“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much.”_

_The rest of the conversation was a blur, but Kaneki distinctly remembered them taking a photo together. For Hinami, he’d told himself, so that she could remember him when he was long gone, a body floating along the canal._

_It seemed the most plausible._

_It was what came after Kaneki never remembered. It seemed that in between those careful, warm moments, the heat became excruciating and his blood became cold. Before he knew it, Anteiku was in flames._

_That was when he was nabbed._

_It was the last time he ever saw Anteiku standing._

* * *

 

“Hey, Trashika—” Nishio called him from the couch, but Hide slammed the door and walked right into his bedroom. No socialising. No happiness. Nothing. He wanted to lie on his bed and be angry at everything.

He tried to slam the door, but Nishio caught it before he could. The taller man stood in the doorway, bespectacled gaze unimpressed. “It’s three in the _fucking_ morning, what have you been doing all night?”

Hide wanted to punch something. Mainly himself.

“Stuff.”

Nishio leaned against the doorframe. “Huh. Could have sworn I’ve never heard of _them_ at Kamii. What were you _really_ doing, Hide? You reek of the 24th ward.”

“Leave me alone, Nishio,” Hide sighed as he flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t want to deal with anything right now. Just a few days ago, he’d been having the time of his life naively throwing around suspicions—fuck, _yesterday_ he’d been having a grand old time. Amazing how a few seconds can change one’s perception so quickly.

Nishio shrugged. “Well, next time you plan on getting involved with the fucking gangs of Tokyo, come in more politely. Also, stop being so fucking spoiled.”

“I’m not—”

Nishio silenced him with a raised hand. “You are. Don’t deny it. Go to sleep, Bitchika.”

Hide stared at the dark ceiling.

What was he even doing? Ugh, he must have been so desperate. He wanted to do _something_ to relieve this pent-up, frustrated energy in him, but he couldn’t. He was tired of moving. Tired of doing.

Lying there angrily seemed like a great plan, after all.

Five minutes later he decided it wasn’t.

He sat up and paced along the room for a solid few minutes, disregarding any noise he would have been making. Sometimes he wished he worked out so that he had something to do with all this energy he had.

Typing wouldn’t do it. He needed a book.

He dug out an old spiral notebook and flicked on the lamp. At his desk, he began to write. He felt so stupidly childish, writing a fucking diary about the boy he had a serious problem with.

No, he was going to study Kaneki’s problems.

In High School, he’d written an extended essay on Psychology. Originally he’d planned on studying Criminal Psychology and Forensic Science, but somewhere along the way his goals had changed and he ended up with Journalism and Creative Writing. Maybe he’d swap next semester or something.

Or he just picked a fourth subject like Haise.

Thinking about him in a remotely positive way made him _angry! Shit!_

Hide ran his hands through his hair angrily. It was three in the morning, and he was full of energy. Work tomorrow would be _so much fun._

He started writing.

  1. Doesn’t display typical traits of psychopathy
  2. Doesn't display typical sociopathic traits



That was a start. Hide had to get those two lines off his chest: whatever Kaneki was, it was atypical. Some part of his brain began to acknowledge a thread of multiple-personality disorder, but it didn’t seem like Kaneki was unaware of Haise. Was Haise aware of Kaneki?

Hide ran through a list of reasons for this, and found nothing of value. There were a lot of holes in Haise’s story, however. Haise was—Hide was fairly sure of it—a conscious coping mechanism Kaneki had designed as well as a civilian identity. Or perhaps it had originated as a civilian identity and slowly grown into a therapeutic lifestyle. Maybe that was it.

Could it be a form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Hide opened up his laptop, now curious. Sure, Kaneki didn’t really look _healthy_ but he didn’t look like he would _die_ at any second—

Hide paused, reading the results of his search:

_“PTSD can often be onset by … the witnessing of traumatic events.”_

Well, crap. Maybe Hide wasn’t in the clear.

Hide shook his head vigorously, as if trying to shake the images out of his head. He couldn’t think like that yet. He couldn’t dwell on those memories too long or they would fester and wound him from the inside.

_“The best thing to do is forget scary stories,”_ his mother had told him.

God, he was thinking about her a lot, lately.

Maybe when this current tumultuous time calmed down a little, he’d reach out. Then again, if he ever did get involved in CCG fieldwork, he’d be witnessing those things on a daily basis. Hide swallowed. Akira had mentioned the undercover work she’d been sent to do as part of her trainee program, and some of it was terrifying even to Hide.

If Akira could do it, then Hide wouldn’t accept less of himself.

That’s great, Hide. Move on.

Ordering himself, he continued his research. As far as he could see, modest clothing didn’t seem to be any indication of a PTSD sufferer. Heightened guilt, loss of sleep, jerky movements, increased anxiety—some of these were ticking Haise’s boxes.

Why were none ticking Kaneki’s?

Angrily, Hide scrawled down: _PTSD?????_

Good. Now he’d remember.

He got up and paced some more. Maybe it was dumb of him to try and classify Kaneki and Haise into a single psychological disorder. He wasn’t an expert. He didn’t have any right to do so without the facts. He was making assumptions, and as his humanities teacher in High School had taught him again and again: “assumptions are the enemy of attaining knowledge.”

Fine, then.

But if Kaneki _wasn’t_ a typical psychopath, then why could he so easily murder people? He had killed— Nope, Hide told himself, not going there—but he _had_ done bad things, and he _did_ lead a bad lifestyle.

Hang on—white hair. What if it wasn’t bleached?

Hide sat himself down in his desk chair again. He’d read about it in his European history class, that one French queen whose hair went white in the days before her execution—

_Mary Antoinette Syndrome is the sudden whitening of the hair._

Hide was worried, now. Why were there no ‘official’ cases of the syndrome?

_Research says that, due to stress, stem cells can often leave the hair follicles in order to repair other parts of the body, causing hairs to lose their pigment and turn white. Stress, the product of cortisol, can be found to damage the hippocampus (responsible for episodic memory). Chronic stress can cause premature brain aging._

That supported the theory pretty well, but the amount of stress someone would have to be under would be phenomenal. Marie Antoinette’s hair was said to have turned white over ‘three days’ (according to folklore), that it was probably the product of continued stress over the state of her country, since the king was a pretty big numbskull.

No, Hide was getting distracted. He always did this when he researched anything.

Could that . . . be possible? He knew it was genetically possible to be born with very, _very,_ pale hair, and various constructions of faces caused parts of hair to have no pigment—but really, was it actually possible? Or was it a statement piece?

If it was dyed, well, it was fairly consistent. Hide had seen the guy most days of the week and not seen a single root poking through—although, he _did_ wear a beanie—but his hair was white to his _eyelashes._ Surely no one had that level of dedication when dyeing their hair.

Hide rubbed his face angrily. Now he was becoming less angry. This wasn’t good.

Jesus, was this a breakup or something?

Hide groaned and threw himself onto his bead. He left the tab open on the computer and studied the way its artificial light lit up the room. What was his life? What was anything?

Why was Kaneki Ken so . . . _complicated?_

It should be simple: Kaneki Ken is violent serial killer. Done. Hide would push him away and be done with the whole business. But Haise . . . it wasn’t part of _Haise._ Was that intentional?

Kaneki had tried to not kill the man, Hide remembered, but still had when threatened. It wasn’t like he’d been put under much pressure, anyway.

So Kaneki had connections. Someone in school. Someone he cared about.

_“I know where they go to school.”_ Sure. Kaneki didn’t want any issues so he did as asked _and_ got more money for it. He doubted the guy felt any worse for it.

Hide massaged his hand. Hadn’t he held Haise’s in it earlier that day?

Hide sighed, finally letting himself be exhausted. The world was screwed up, he decided. Everyone was screwed up. Everyone in their own little way.

Or big way.

Or very large way.

_Fuck it,_ Hide decided, and pulled the covers up over his filthy clothes.

* * *

 

_They’d met a while back. Kaneki had been sitting at the counter in the early hours of the morning when a woman and her daughter came through, soaked to the bone from the rain. Yoshimura had him gathering towels instantly, but Kaneki already knew their problems ran deeper than being cold and wet._

_The little girl dried herself off with hands that were either numb from the cold or from shock. Probably both._

_The whole affair had been distant._

_The next time he came, the girl’s mother was sitting at the counter. She looked ragged and exhausted, but for whatever reason she treated Kaneki kindly._

_“Thank you for last time,” she said. “I didn’t introduce myself; my name is Ryouko. You?”_

_“Kaneki,” he replied. “I’m glad you’re okay.”_

_Silence._

_Kaneki made himself a coffee. Yoshimura wasn’t manning the counter._

_“Hey, Kaneki,” said Ryouko slowly, knitting her fingers together in thought. “If . . . if I were to disappear, would Hinami be all right here?”_

_The saddest thing Kaneki ever realised was that when people talked like that, they weren’t hypothetical._

_“Yes,” he said. The answer came easily. “She would be safe here.”_

_The woman tensed and hung her head. “And . . . would you look after her?”_

_“Of course,” Kaneki said. He meant it. “I promise you.”_

_She smiled at him, relief in every inch of her face. It was beautiful in a condemned, melancholic way._

_When he came next, Yoshimura was at the counter with Hinami in silence._

_Ryouko was dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooooo thats an adventure  
> i make myself progressively sadder the more i write Kaneki's backstory legit. I just want him to be happy jfc
> 
> NOTE: i am not a psychologist so every part of the psychological stuff i used in this literally just came from some research with the Googlemobile. The history stuff, however, I am actually proficient in.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and thanks also for all the comments and kudos you guys leave! I know I always say this but y'all make my day every time!


	15. Nescience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoa sit down everyone and meet Hide's mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey it's me again
> 
> Thanks to everyone that read and liked the last chapter! I really appreciate all the comments and kudos you guys leave ;P
> 
> sooooo im gonna use the excuse that this was practice for the literature exam I have tomorrow morning. because im a great, organised human being.

Hide picked up the call. “Ma?”

“ _Hide!”_ she cried into the phone. “ _We’re at the station, where are you?”_

“The train’s slow,” he said. “We’re stuck in the snow, I think.” It was true: the train had slowed considerably since he’d boarded. After a train out of Tokyo, a change over to the prefecture line, and then finally a train that would take an hour to where he had to go, and now it was slowing down. He was meant to be there twenty minutes ago.

 _“That’s terrible,”_ said his mother. He could hear the wind whistling into the speaker. Guilt was already worming the way up his gut. His parents were out there _waiting_ for him.

“Hey, if the weather is too bad I can meet you at home—”

“ _Oh, they just made an announcement_ ,” she said. He heard her say something to his father, who said something back. The wind was sharp in the speaker.

“ _We’ll be in the waiting room,”_ she told him. “ _Don’t even_ think _about telling us to go home, Hideyoshi. We’ve even brought tea.”_

Hide thought of them fondly: two farmers layered up in their snow clothes huddled around a hot thermos of tea.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” He hung up.

He missed them. He’d really missed them, he realised.

Sitting through all his classes alone had really done a number on him. He hadn't realised just how much he relied on Haise for company. When he sat with Takashi, they barely spoke despite Hide’s best efforts. Takashi was just . . . Takashi.

Exams came and went. Haise didn’t come once.

Christmas holidays rolled around and Hide packed his bags and bid his two-week farewell to Nishio before jumping on the first train out. Even four hours on the train wouldn’t stop him.

He’d taken this train many times. He recognised the landmarks and watched them eagerly behind the curtain of falling snow. The walls of the carriage whistled and buckled from the wind, cold air seeping through the doors, but Hide wanted out. He’d tried sitting, standing, walking and even running, but nothing had worked. He felt like a kid again, coming home from his week away.

Except he’d been away for many, many months.

He’d go home and he’d go to his old, trashy, teenage room, which he’d left messy and unwelcoming, booby trapped to keep his mother from reading anything sensitive of his, which was literally just that one crappy magazine he’d bought as a fifteen year old and found no interest in but never threw away. He’d do it now, as a responsibly university student, he decided. He’d toss it into the bin and move on with his life.

Looking for something to do, he scrolled through all his open messages. Most of them were to his classmates, telling them happy holidays and telling Akira and Amon that he was away and he’d bring them back treats from his grandparents (because they always made too much food) and then he saw the message from Haise, who had been texting him from the movie theatre.

Haise: _hey im here (_ _´_ _▽ ` )_ _ﾉ_

Haise: _okay I guess im early no biggie_

Haise: _wow r u sure u wanna see this film i think ur gonna crap ur pants_

That was it. That was the last message that he’d received.

Jeez, Hide felt like someone had died. No one had died. He just knew a little more now.

Was that any different?

He went back to pacing the carriage. The only other patron was an old man whom Hide assumed was coming back from town. He’d fallen asleep, slumped forward with his chin on his chest. He looked kind of content in that blob-like, sleepy way.

Hide leaned against the wall, staring out the window. He could see the lights of the tracks in the distance, but no sign of the station. Dimly, Hide began to draw smiley faces in the fog his breath made on the glass.

His parents—bless their souls—would be incredibly invasive. He couldn’t hide anything from them, ever. How would he keep the whole Kaneki thing under wraps? How would he keep the CCG quiet? Look, he should just say that he worked in the local convenience store if they asked. Surely that wasn’t too suspicious for them.

On the topic of Kaneki—

Hide slumped onto the chair. That was how it started, wasn’t it? The whole problem. He’d think, _and then Kaneki is . . ._ and would end up angry and muttering and researching everything like a madman. So far he’d compiled a list of things worth investigating.

Not that he would, right?

He strained his eyes for the station. Kusumi would be here, in this town. Everything that was simple and positively dull would be here. There would be no need to tend to the open crops in this weather. They’d all be gone already. His life would be herding the chickens at the crack of dawn out of the hatch to collect eggs.

He tried not to be too excited about it.

* * *

 

Kaneki wondered what Hide was doing.

The weather outside was cold and miserable. Even with heaters turned on and armed with hot drinks, the air remained frosty.

Maybe if Touka would talk to him it would seem less made of ice.

“She hates you at the moment,” Ayato warned him, “because apparently you were a ‘giant, shitty, fucking idiot’.”

That had been several weeks ago. It was always a marathon with Touka: whose resolve would buckle first? Normally he would have apologized to her, but this time he didn’t. He didn’t want to.

Besides, it wasn’t like he needed her to paint him up daily anymore.

“Ayato, can you pass me the instant coffee?” Touka was standing at the stove, making breakfast or scrambled eggs. Kaneki didn’t feel like eating, but he knew that with Touka cooking he wouldn’t hear the end of it until he’d licked the plate clean.

“Get it yourself, dumbass,” Ayato muttered, struggling over his homework. Even if he was a lout at times, it calmed Kaneki to see him working at the kitchen table. His dark hair was a mess and his eyes were red from the cold he’d awoken to.

Kaneki wondered what it would be like to live in anything that wasn’t run-down, cheap and in a bad neighborhood. Still, for two young adults and a minor, it was pretty good. Even if Kaneki _was_ never in during the night.

“Oi dipshit,” Touka snapped over her shoulder, dark eyes sharp and sleep-deprived early on a Monday morning, “give me the fucking coffee.”

Kaneki sipped at his own drink.

Domestic civility at its finest.

“I’m _working,”_ Ayato growled, “unlike _someone_ over there!”

“Do you want to cook the fucking eggs, huh?” Touka snapped around, slapping her tea towel on the table. “I asked you _nicely._ What’s with you?”

Ayato glared at her. “I’m _busy._ ”

Touka growled. Angrily, she snatched the jar off the coffee table herself, pointedly not looking at Kaneki. “Be that way, dickhead.”

“Leaned from the best,” Ayato muttered onto his page.

“It’s a form of ‘rain’,” Kaneki supplied softly as he struggled with kanji. “Think of Takatsuki Sen.”

Ayato gave him a sour look but said nothing. Ayato always seemed to be angry, these days. Kaneki knew he meant no harm, but it made him wonder. He knew the siblings were close, but now that Touka had finished school and was going to university in a few months, he’d grown distant.

Kaneki was no longer well-versed enough in human interactions to figure out why. It wasn’t like Touka would talk to him about it, either.

 _So dead behind the eyes,_ that same voice reminded him. _What’s the purpose of having a healthy, living, breathing body?_

Kaneki grew tired of that train of thought before he could fully follow it. He turned his attention to his coffee. “When’s Hinami coming back?”

“Friday,” Ayato said. “She’s coming with a group from school. Touka’s going to get her.” He was beginning to calm, as if the very mention of her name had a profound affect on him. Hinami had got an Arts scholarship to a boarding school, and so she was never home. Kaneki was happy about that. Any distance from this business was good distance.

He could hardly believe he’d been the one to teach her how to read and write.

Hardly. But he could.

Because he had.

“Ayato, is her room clean? I know you’ve been dumping shit in there,” Touka said, dividing the eggs over three plates. “Clean up all your art crap. The girl has to _sleep_ in there, you know.”

Ayato grunted but gave no further indication of having understood. Seeing him bent over a grammar question, Kaneki questioned himself as to whether he should help.

Ayato wouldn’t appreciate it.

Touka smacked the plate of eggs down in front of the both of them. “Eat,” she said to neither of them.

Kaneki picked at it hesitantly; acutely aware of how Touka glanced at him when she thought he couldn’t see. Inwardly, he sighed. Food tasted like nothing, just the oily, gelatin texture across his tongue.

He ate it quickly and pushed the plate away before washing his mouth out with black coffee. Coffee, in all its bitterness, he could at least taste somewhat.

“I’m heading out tonight,” Touka said.

On a job? Kaneki wondered. Unusual for her on a Monday. Usually, Kaneki worked Mondays. And Tuesdays. And Wednesdays. And every other day of the week.

Obviously sensing the confusion at the table, she clarified: “On a date.”

 _Oh._ Kaneki and Ayato shared a silent look. _A date._

* * *

 

_“Do you want to learn?” Kaneki had asked one night. He always felt like he had to whisper in the vast emptiness of late-night Anteiku. The younger girl, Hinami, regarded him with large eyes._

_“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please.”_

_He looked over the book she was reading. Normally, it was read by someone half of her age. “Have you ever been to school, Hinami?” he asked softly._

_He knew the answer before it came. “No,” she admitted. “I . . . it would have been hard for me.”_

_Kaneki understood. No one liked to be the school ghost because they had to pretend their criminal parents didn’t exist. The kid with no story. No past. They were just_ there.

_Kaneki knew the role well._

_“It’s fine,” he said gently. “You know the basic hiragana, right?”_

_Hinami nodded eagerly, listing them off fluently. Kaneki nodded, thoughtful. “Can you write them?”_

_“No.”_

_“Okay,” said Kaneki. “Why don’t I make you a sheet to practice them for me, and when I’m here next time you can show them to me, okay?” He took her notebook and precisely drew in every simple character. “This one is ka, this is ke, ko, ku . . .”_

_He lost track of time teaching the little girl how to read. When he got back, his aunt slapped him across the face and dragged him by the ear to his room. “No food,” she snapped. “Don’t go to school either, you piece of crap.”_

_Kaneki listened to her, of course. He didn’t set a foot out of that door except in the quietest of moments to slip to the bathroom. He could be the household ghost too: A faint, meandering spirit. His aunt had realized now that school was the only escape he ever received from this place, and she hated it._

_It also meant he fell behind, so those perfect tests were hard to bring home. She was winning in every direction, even the way her own son never worked at all. He was winning too._

_But Kaneki had energy, now. It didn’t matter how tired he was. He would teach this girl to read._

_He spent all day dedicating a whole notebook to writing practice for her. He’d teach the girl everything she needed to know. She could go to any school she wanted if she had the grades. Kaneki would send her there. Dammit, he would send her there. He’d promised her mother that he would look after her, and he would educate her. He would save her from this life._

_He stuffed the book into the front band of his pants when he left, pulling his jumper low to hide the square shape beneath the fabric. His aunt didn’t notice. So he did it again, and again, and again. She never noticed. Of course she’d never notice. It wasn’t leaving that bothered her. She knew he would come back. He always did._

_Where else would he go?_

* * *

 

“Hide!”

The woman was petite, with long, grey hair and the same angular eyes, but blue instead of brown. Her skin had paled under the winter sky, revealing her face full of freckles. She was running towards him, arms out in her hulking winter clothes, his father not far behind. In an instant he was swallowed up by her embrace.

He could have cried.

His father rubbed his head affectionately. “Welcome home, Hide,” he said.

His father, Nagachika Kousuke, had Hide’s nose: that sharp, elfish point to the face. His eyes were dark and warm, like a kindling flame. His skin was always dark from having lived out here his whole life, his dark hair turning grey under his beanie. He gave Hide his signature smile, which Hide had coined from him. He let him take his bags.

“It’s good to be back,” he told them.

“Oh, don’t give me that!” yelled his mother excitedly. She took his face in her hands and kissed every inch of it in a way only a mother could get away with. “I’m so glad you’re all right. How’s school? Hard? What about your roommate? Are they mean? Do you have money? Do you have a job? Do you—”

“Give him some space, Yoko,” his father chided. “The man needs air!”

“Boys don’t need anything other than their mothers!” she protested, looping her arm through his. “Did you come prepared? We’re completely snowbound at the farm. All the animals are in. It’s crazy!”

Hide smiled. This was the life he was used to: soft edges and mud, early mornings and tired nights. He could live this way.

“So, tell me!” said Yoko, nudging him in the ribs. “What’s gone on in your life? What’s the city like, after you _left_ me?”

Hide was grateful she didn’t get angry. No, that would come later.

“It’s busy,” he admitted. “Full of weird and wonderful people.”

“It would be if _you_ lived there,” his dad pointed out. Hide punched him in the arm, but he laughed it off. It was easy with his parents. After everything in the city, he couldn’t care less about embarrassing parents at all. Rather, he _wanted_ them to be protective and embarrassing and recount stupid baby stories. It was stupid and comforting.

He felt like he needed it after the stuff he’d seen in the city.

They headed towards the truck, one of the few mechanical monsters capable of plowing through the snowy roads and mud of the fields. Hide had learned to drive in that thing, and even after the affectionately dubbed “Hurricane Hide” had passed through it, it chugged along.

Kousuke tossed the bags onto the backseat without much thought. “Hop in, hop in,” he said. “Don’t get us frozen solid, woman!”

“Be quiet,” his mother laughed. Sitting in the back seat, Hide regarded his parents interacting, as if Hide wasn’t there. It would have grown on them slowly, Hide knew, but now they went about their lives without him.

He felt his heart sink to the tip of his toes, despite himself.

He had become a stranger here, too.

* * *

 

_The summer was Kaneki’s least favorite time of year. He walked out of Anteiku, hesitant. Any second, he could change his mind, rush back in and say, “Please, please take me in!”_

_But, at the same time, he couldn’t._

_He wouldn’t._

_He slung on his small backpack. It had his pitiful savings, a notebook, a pen, a public transport pass and his student ID. That was him: Kaneki Ken in a bag._

_The heat was oppressive even in the night. Thick, muggy air beat down on his brow. Cicadas screamed into the empty space. He felt sweat already gathering down his back and forehead. His hair was matted to his face already despite only just leaving the air-conditioned interior of the cafe._

_The next time he checked over his shoulder in hesitation, Anteiku was already out of sight._

_It was weirdly liberating, walking from nothing to nothing. Having nothing in front of him, nothing behind him, nothing to bridge the gap that he was walking through. He was just a lone boy drifting between street lamps._

_He used to love cicadas. He’d sit at his bedroom window, when he lived with his mother, and listen to them. For hours. Back then, their screams had been songs that drowned away the sound of his muffled crying. He’d loved them. Still, he loved them, but their songs had faded from his naïve mind. They were just screams, now._

_Because why wouldn’t you scream when you were in the dark, surrounded by more screaming people?_

_He used to love those cicadas._

_But they were from Before._

_He came to realize, not much long after, that it was probably because he’d been listening to those screaming insects that he hadn’t noticed people come up behind him. He hadn’t noticed them stand behind him, gathering, ready to pounce. He hadn’t noticed at all._

_He only noticed when hands were on his neck and his head was being slammed into the ground._

_Again_

_And again_

_And again._

_The same night his Before ended was the same night Anteiku went up in flames. He remembered lying on the ground, barely conscious, feeling the heat but unable to open his eyes. Blood had caked on his lids and his skin had swollen shut. The heat was burning. Burning him to his core._

_Hinami, he’d thought. He’d failed Hinami. He’d failed Ryouko. He’d failed Yoshimura. He’d failed that girl he met only a day ago, whom he had hoped the best for. He’d failed his mother. He’d failed even his aunt. He’d failed happiness. He’d failed himself._

_He was such a failure._

_What was the point, he thought at that time, to continuing on? What was there for someone like him?_

_That was the end of his Before._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a nice way to end. (That was a joke, guys. Please laugh, otherwise I'd just be making y'all sad and I don't want that).
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone that comments, leaves kudos, reads and leaves, you name it - every little addition to this story means a lot to me and I'm very grateful to you all! 
> 
> Special thanks to the lovely user @gifti3 for her gorgeous art of the story on her tumblr!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and stick around for the next one (*＾v＾*)


	16. Pacify [Him]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touka and Nishiki "bitch" about Kaneki, Hide's mother is SHARP AF, and Amon gets sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooyeah thanks for all the comments and kudos on the last chapter!
> 
> Sorry this one's out a bit late, I had a bit of a dry patch and I wasn't sure about how well I did on an exam and ughhhhhhhhhh but anyways, I got passed it and wrote up this.
> 
> I haven't proofread this yet, so sorry for any typos. I'll go through it in the (later) morning. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“Nishitty-o,” Touka greeted him as she walked in. The youth hardly looked up from his phone, waving her over.

“I thought you had a date tonight,” Nishio said, still looking down. “Why arrange something with me now?”

“My date isn’t until later,” Touka told him, sitting down. “I wanted to talk about Kaneki.”

“Here we go,” Nishio sighed, putting his phone in his jacket pocket. He looked up, adjusting his glasses back. “Do you know he showed up at Kamii the other day? No one told me he went there!”

“He’s been going there as Sasaki since the start of the academic year,” Touka told him. She hailed over a waiter, asking for a cappuccino.

“Who’s this Sasaki kid, anyway? What about ID? Kamii is tight as fuck about those things.”

“Chie Hori made the card,” Touka said. “Sasaki is that kid from last year that he was sent to clean up. You remember him, yeah? The one that shot Kaneki?”

“How do I remember everyone that’s killed him?” Nishio grumbled. “Okay, fine. No one ever told me. Cool. I don’t care. What do you want to talk about?”

“Who’s the kid he’s been hanging out with?”

Nishio’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. This could be coming from any angle, if it was Touka. She wanted to do it for Kaneki’s benefit, but benefit had many forms.

“Why?”

The waiter delivered Touka’s coffee. “Thank you,” she told him, taking a sip. Her face was unreadable when she looked up at him again.

“Why do you think?”

“Did Uta put you up to this?” Nishio leaned on his hand. “If they have, I told you: I’m leaving. I can’t afford to screw around you gangs. If this is—”

“I haven’t talked to Kaneki about it, because you know how he is,” Touka cut him off. She looked down at her hands, clasping and unclasping on the table as she spoke. “He looked better for a while, but . . . I don’t know. Something’s happened and he’s even worse than usual.”

“He hit the switch again, didn’t he?”

Touka nodded gravely. “He sure did. Nearly everything is switched off, even when Hinami is coming home soon.”

Nishio sighed. “I thought that when I left I’d be free of this.”

“You can’t fucking _abandon_ him, Nishio,” Touka snapped, glaring at him with those intense, violent eyes. “Like it or not, you owe him too.”

Nishio looked away. Slowly, he sighed. “I think the guy found out about Kaneki. His name is Hide. A few weeks ago he came home at three in the morning in a great fuss and shut himself in his room. Some people are like that, but not Hide. He’s the kind of guy that’s always glued to a group of people.”

Touka breathed out, long and low. “Tell me about him.”

“Works at CCG.”

“Okay, not good.”

“He does Creative Writing with Kaneki.”

“Sasaki, but yes.”

Nishio muttered something to himself. “He’s only Sasaki when I’m talking to his face.”

“Fine. Go on. He works at CCG, does Creative Writing, what else?”

“He’s from the country. Smart kid. Too smart, I might even say. He’s on a scholarship.”

“Jesus.” Touka knew how hard it was to get a scholarship at Kamii. Nishio nodded in agreement.

“He’s much smarter than me. I think he’s suspected for a while that Kaneki and Sasaki are connected, but I guess it shocked him. Real bad.”

Touka hid her expression while she drank her coffee. Kaneki had done some fucked up shit, but was there anything in particular that would screw up someone as intelligent as Hide? Especially if he’d suspected a connection between the two.

“I heard Tsukiyama joined the Creative Writing class,” Nishio said. “But I haven’t seen him on campus since, like, a few weeks back.”

“Yeah, because Kaneki stopped going to Kamii,” Touka said. “Just stopped. Idiot had something good in his life and then decided that he’d fucked it up too bad and decided to hit the bail button."

“Jeez, I didn’t realise Tsukiyama had that much of a thing for the guy.”

“No,” Touka said, “Kaneki is Tsukiyama’s bodyguard whenever he’s out, remember?”

“Um, no?” Nishio looked sour. He pulled out his phone again and started texting someone—Touka assumed Kimi. Touka glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing her time tick away.

“Mirumo assigned Kaneki to Tsukiyama so he could go to night school. Tsukiyama sat the mid-year entrance exams and got into Kamii instead.”

“Okay,” Nishio said. “So Kaneki’s screwed him over as well?”

“I don’t think Kaneki’s even thought about anything other than going out at night for several weeks,” Touka admitted. “Fuck, what would _do_ this to him?”

She remembered Kaneki coming home, his front covered in blood, his eyes glassy and empty. His face was bright red around the chin, like it’d been scrubbed clean. The neck of his jumper, always zipped up his throat, was soaked through with water, but he still carried the metallic scent of blood wherever he walked. Touka could only imagine what had happened.

“Is this Hide guy . . . a curious person?”

Nishio shook his head. “You have no idea.”

“Where is he?” Touka stood. It was time for her date.

“He went home for Christmas break,” Nishio told her. “He won’t be back for two weeks.”

“Dammit,” Touka cursed. She pulled out her phone, receiving a text from Yoriko: _im here babe <3_

“When he gets back,” Touka said, “I want to talk to him.”

“If Kaneki’s decided to distance himself, then maybe—”

“Kaneki probably thinks this 'Hide' sees him as a monster,” Touka said. She stood. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Who would I tell?” Nishio said, raising an eyebrow. “I quit, remember?”

“Dumbass,” Touka muttered. “I’m counting on you, idiot.”

“Way ahead of you.”

* * *

 

Walking into his family home, Hide was instantly welcomed by his grandmother. “Hideyoshi!” she laughed. “Look at you! You’re so big!”

“It’s only been a year, Grans,” he said, grinning. “How’s Pops?”

“Asleep,” she grinned. Even she had the same grin of his father. They were all alike, the Nagachikas. “Lights out. Kaput.”

Hide snickered. “Typical.”

“Be nice, Hide,” his mother chided. “Dinner’s soon. Clean yourself up, okay?”

“Yes, do. Then we can talk.”

God, Hide loved his grandparents. He snuck into his old bedroom, and copped nostalgia like a punch to the face.

The curtains had been thrown open when his parents aired out the room recently, but it still smelled stale and old, like it had been quietly abandoned for the rest of the year. His bed was perfectly made, his cupboard bulging the same way it had been when he left, bloated from the humidity present even in winter. On his desk were the figurines he hadn’t moved since he was fifteen and outrageously pubescent and geeky, reading manga day and night. On the walls were a mix of Japanese movie posters and fancy American ones.

This was the Hide he’d left behind.

He sat himself down on the foot of his bed, listening to the howl of the blizzard outside. Even in here, the smell of wet soil and animals came through the wood. Fresh air seeped through the cracks. He couldn’t smell even a wisp of smoke. It was clean, country air.

What had been thinking when he left this room? What had been the last thought he’d had in here?

He didn’t know. It didn’t seem important at the time.

“All right, that’s enough,” he told himself. He stood and shook out his arms. He had to be a happy, happy kid now. He was. He was away from that city with its complicated people. For the next two weeks, he would be here with his family celebrating Christmas.

He wouldn’t even think about what was waiting for him when he got back. Nope. Not once.

He tossed his coat onto the bed and stretched. He scrubbed at his hands with warm water, washed his face, pushed his hair off his face. Yes, he’d take his holidays and use them as holidays.

“Hide, hurry up! Dinner!”

“Coming!” he called.

* * *

 

Amon Kotarou had never realised how much they relied on their part-timer. Even if Akira had given him a fancy title to make him like the job more, they were always relying on him to throw around ideas. That was the way it always was, having someone as intelligent as Hide in the mix.

That was why, when the Hirako Squad called for a meeting with them about the violent attack that had occurred, he wished Hide had been there for an opinion.

A group of six lay dead in an alley. “A small gang,” said First-Class Kuramoto. “They appeared to be making the same Ice we’d found distributed by the GLG on separate occasions. Recently, we’ve also been finding them in the hands of Aogiri.”

Amon thought about the information Hide had brought back after that somewhat failure of an undercover mission: Aogiri were gaining power.

“From base speculation, I would guess that they must have switched their loyalties and the Ghouls went after them.” Kuramoto pushed forward a folder of images. “These are from the scene. Five of the six were killed by knifework: three with slit throats, one _stabbed_ through the neck, and another’s kidney stabbed. The sixth was killed by a single gunshot wound to the head.”

Amon looked at the photos. Compared to what he’d seen, they were clean kills. Beside him, Akira scanned each one with an expert eye. “How many people do you suspect did this?”

Itou knitted his fingers. “Miss Mado, I’m sure you already have your suspicions.”

Akira smiled thinly. “Most of the stab wounds have an upward trajectory; they were done by someone shorter. These men are all tall, so that limits our options. The one stabbed through the throat definitely goes upward”—she flicked between the autopsy picture and the scene picture—“and another one has a downward slant. He was found face down, so I guess he was being held down on the ground. If they were quick, someone smaller than them could have done it.”

“Correct, as always,” said Itou, smiling. “So, how many people?”

“One,” Akira said with finality. “My guess is that he killed the five first, and the sixth one saw the scene. He was found near the entry to the alleyway a fair distance away on his back. If he was running forward, the momentum of a bullet through his head would throw him back. Moreover, it also has an upward trajectory. The shooter was probably still sitting on the man he killed on the ground. What type of gun was it?”

“We haven’t had any formal analysis yet, but it’s from a small handgun.”

Akira nodded. Amon already knew which direction this was pointing in.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Amon said heavily. “Kaneki.”

Itou shrugged. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.”

“Oh, it’s him,” Akira said. “He’s been inactive for a while, but it’s him. Six men in the space of a few minutes. Smaller height. He’s an estimated 5’8”, right? These men are all over six foot. It all makes sense. Any other evidence found?”

“None,” said Itou.

“It’s him,” Amon said. He suppressed the urge to sigh. He’d met Kaneki twice, and both times it mystified him. He knew that he wasn’t meant to try and understand a murderer, a drug dealer no less, but he was just so _different_ it stumped Amon. After all the people he’d put away as part of the job, Kaneki seemed . . . different.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

“It’s an unusual spot for him, isn’t it?” Itou mused, gathering his things. “He’s usually around the 20th ward, but he ventured quite far out this time.”

“People move,” Akira said. She stood. “Keep us posted. Because he’s technically from our zone, we should be informed.”

“I will,” said Itou, giving a lazy salute. “Good work!”

* * *

 

As Hide was getting ready for bed, he heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” he said, pulling his pyjama shirt over his head. His mother smiled at him from the other side of the door.

“Are you too big for bedtime stories?” she smiled.

Hide almost laughed. “I thought I’d be the one giving _you_ a bedtime story, _granny.”_

“Psh. I’m young still. Now, get under the covers,” calmly, she closed the door behind her. As Hide settled, she remained still for a moment longer. “So, what’s made you so sad?”

“What?”

Hide swallowed hard. Surely, she hadn’t noticed. Maybe he’d just had a sad thought. He didn’t _feel_ too sad, so why . . . nah, he probably just gathered tears in his eyes from the bad cooking. Yeah, that must have been it. Or when Pops tried to be funny and spilled his sake all over the table. Hide had cried up from laughter.

It was silly for him to jump to the Kaneki conclusion.

Slowly, Nagachika Yoko sat herself down in Hide’s desk chair. “Don’t try and hide it. Did you meet someone and break up? Did you fail something? Miss someone? You can tell me. I’m your mother, and I’m worried about you.”

Ah, she had noticed.

 _Actually,_  Hide resisted saying, I _ended up having a thing for this guy that ended up being a killer, and I work for the CCG, and I ended up in this fight where I got beat up like, only a few days after moving, and I actually tripped on LSD recently and I still feel kind of bad about that._

 _“_ Uh, no? Nothing’s wrong,” Hide assured her, lying through his teeth. “Maybe I’m just overwhelmed by how homesick I was!” he cried mockingly, placing a palm on his chest. “Such feeling!”

“Hide,” said his mother, voice grave. “Be serious.”

Hide pouted, looking away. “Maybe I, uh . . . didn’t do too well in Journalism . . .”

He hated lying to his mother.

“Hide!” Yoko cried, grasping his shoulders in relief, startling him enough to look at her. “Thank goodness, I thought you’d actually gotten hurt! I don’t care about how well you do in Journalism, Hide. Don’t stress yourself out about it. Your scholarship is for Forensics, right?”

“Yeah . . .” Hide rubbed the back of his head, grinning. “I just got a little worried about it.”

Yoko smiled. “Good. If you’d told me something bad had happened in the city, I’d probably lock you in this room so you don’t run back to it.”

Hide couldn’t tell if she was joking. He felt a cold sweat roll down his back, forcing his smile to stay in place. This wasn’t good.

She stood to leave. “It’s fine. Just move on and do better next time.”

As she started to exit, closing the door, her sharp eyes stared right into him, burning with intelligence.

“Also, don’t lie to me ever again, Hideyoshi. Sleep well!”

Closing the door, Hide realised just how obvious it had been that she'd see right through him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who leaves any comments of kudos in advance, because (I feel like I always say this) I really do read them and try to respond to each one because they really do mean a lot to me!
> 
> Wherever you are, I hope you have a great day! ｡ﾟ✶ฺ.ヽ(*´∀`*)ﾉ.✶ฺﾟ｡


	17. Minus Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hide sighed. “I swear to God, you cause me so much trouble.”  
> Kusumi struck out her tongue. “You can thank me later, Hideyoshi. I want to see selfies of you two!”
> 
> have fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE THE WEEK-END HERE HAVE A CHAPTER
> 
> legit though thanks to all of you for the last chapter - I woke up with morning to an inbox full of things and ARGH I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH!

_“_ A greater power may take the man from Hell, but nothing may take the Hell from man _.” When he was younger, he had read that line. Naively, he had connected it to his life: his aunt, his uncle, his school, his losses. He thought that he was in Hell. Surely, he was._

_That’s what he had believed._

_He had been wrong._

* * *

 

Hide found himself sliding back into his old life easily. By the time Friday morning came, he was already awake at 5 in the morning and layering up to visit the chicken hutch. Despite his mother seeing right through whatever lie he assured her with, she was tolerant of him in the house. He knew that when it got closer to his departure, she would probably trap him in his room like she had threatened him. His father would be powerless this time.

His gumboots beat through the snow that was building up around the house. The hay on the hatch’s floor was damp and probably beginning to rot. He’d have to clean it later, when the sun rose properly and the ice began to melt.

He threw open the hatch door and began the arduous process of taking eggs from grumpy morning chickens. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to have to lift sleepy birds up from their nests. He hadn’t however, forgotten when it felt like to have them peck at him _despite_ the daily routine and the way one would freak out and wake up the rest of them.

Nope, he’d never forget that.

When he walked in with his load of eggs, his mother was awake and getting ready to make breakfast. “Morning, Hide,” she said, chirpy like a pre-dawn bird. “Got all the eggs?”

It took all of Hide’s self-control not to be awkward around her; ashamed that he was lying about everything she’d wanted to know. “Yep,” he said, dumping the basket on the bench. “Anything else need to be done?”

She shook her head, lighting the stove with a match as the gas whistled. “Your dad’s already headed out. However, if you could pop down to the market and buy some stuff for tonight, it would be good.”

Christmas in a country town was a hard task. Everyone around was traditional families who didn’t celebrate the Western holiday, unlike Tokyo, who geared up in tinsel and red and green lights, along with hoisting giant trees in city squares. Here, people had a produce sale for any travelling families on holidays. That was about it.

Hide guessed the only reason his family celebrated it was because it was an excuse for everyone to come together, and his mother liked it.

Maybe she had fond memories of it. He didn’t really know much about her childhood.

“I sure can,” he said. “Got a list?”

“On the table,” she said. She cracked an egg into a bowl and began whisking whilst the pan heated up. “No rush. We have until tonight, anyway. Don’t accept anything old, you hear me? You tell them Nagachika will come after them if they sell you yesterday’s goods!”

Hide was relieved when he ferried himself out the door. He rubbed his hands against the chill that was beginning to seep past his layers of clothing. From beside the family car, be pulled out his old bike, checking to make sure everything was in older. It looked sad and disused without him.

He wasn’t sure if the snow had been cleared from the roads yet, but if he was honest, he didn’t mind all that much. It must have been nearly six, because the sky was lightening. He knew the sun wouldn’t be up for at least another hour, but the light was enough to easily navigate until he reached the main road. Maybe by the time he reached the local morning market, it would be daylight.

He swung a leg over the bike and rolled down the hill.

* * *

 

_It was night, and Touka could feel the fire on her skin even from this distance. The stifling humidity carried the bitter embers towards her. She was running. Her throat burned from breathing in the hot air. She’d discarded any packages. She didn’t care about it at all. What was happening to Anteiku?_

_What about the boy she had met, Kaneki? What about the manager? What about every find memory she had that was safe and happy? What about that?_

_As she approached, her heart sank and shattered on the heating bitumen._

_Anteiku was burning._

_A roaring, flaming mess of agony. Whether it was the building’s, hers, or something else in the air around it, she wasn’t sure._

_It marked the end of something she had come to cherish._

_Something came flying towards her, and she was too shocked and numb to react. It threw her down onto the ground, and she realised it was a young girl with mousey-brown hair. Hinami. Hinami, thank God, Hinami was okay._

_She sat up and grabbed Hinami’s shoulders. The younger girl was crying, and Touka saw angry burns on her hands. Touka stroked her hair, crying in both her relief for Hinami and despair for herself._

_“Hinami,” she sobbed, “thank God, Hinami. Thank God.”_

_Everyone was lost to her. Her parents, the manager, the kind Kaneki, the passing child authorities. Everyone was lost._

_But not Hinami._

_Not her brother._

_“Hinami, Hinami listen to me,” her voice was thick, but it surprised her how strong it sounded. She had to be strong. “I’m going to take you to the hospital. I’m going to tell them that I found you here, and I’m going to tell them that my brother and I are in danger. I’m . . . I’m going to let them take us, Hinami. We can’t live like this anymore.”_

_Hinami, crying, nodded. This was it. Touka would change her future. She had to think of a story for Hinami. She had to do so many things._

_In the distance, she could hear the fire brigade coming. She grabbed the bag she’d thrown down with tonight’s lot and tossed it into the burning flames. She didn’t care if it burned at all. She didn’t care._

_She waited. An Ambulance came with the fire truck, and she hustled Hinami onto it. They were adamant there was someone else, but Touka insisted they leave._

_The manager was already dead._

* * *

 

Kaneki was silent as they both cleaned their apartment. He’d been silent all day, and it was starting to worry Touka. She knew that now of all times was the worst to press it—right after a job—but she needed to make sure he was okay. This wasn’t normal, even for him. She’d seen him become like this once, and, well, it wasn’t pretty for either of them.

“Have you cleaned the bathroom yet?” she asked softly. Kaneki nodded. Ayato had taken charge of organising their things, Touka had taken the kitchen and Kaneki did the rest. The whole place smelled like a mixture of lemon-scented detergent and faintly of bleach. It reminded her of a hospital.

Touka checked the clock. “She’ll be at the station at four o’clock, and it’s nearly two. Do you want a shower first, or can I go?”

“You go,” he said. His voice was quiet and raw. Touka swallowed hard but didn’t press it. She knew any argument from here would only dissolve into her one-sided anger. She quietly hoped and prayed that Kaneki would get better by the time Hinami came.

Quietly, she hoped.

“Okay, well, you guys can make some lunch for yourselves or something.”

Kaneki nodded. “I’ll make sure Ayato eats.”

_That’s not what I meant,_ Touka wanted to say, but she just nodded. God, since when had she become so powerless? She wanted to scream, but she knew it was worth nothing. She had to be gentle, but gentleness never seemed effective. Why was Kaneki so content with running himself this dry? She studied the hollows under his eyes, the way his lips had become chapped. Shit, had he slept all week?

He waved her off, forcing a smile. Touka could have screamed. “Stop worrying about me. It’s fine.”

“Alright,” she said. “But you need to eat something as well, okay?”

He was silent for a beat too long. “Yeah.”

She swallowed hard. It was only a short walk to the bathroom where she could lock herself in and make all the faces she wanted to scream from. She could sigh into the steam and mutter to herself all her frustrations.

Only four paces across the room. Surely, she could make it that far. Definitely.

It was amazing how hard four steps could be.

She’d walked thousands of them in her life—millions, maybe, but these four could have been the hardest. How many more steps could she withstand?

She kept her eyes trained on the door until she reached it and threw it open. She didn’t look behind her as she shut it and locked it after herself. She knew that she would have seen the emptiness behind those silver eyes and she would stop too long to wonder how someone who had become like _that_ had given her strength at all.

* * *

 

The train into Tokyo city was busy. Amongst the seats sat a small group of uniformed students. A small ways off sat a girl in similar uniform, her pale brown hair cut short with a fringe. She’d sat a small bag on her lap and held a suitcase between her ankles to accommodate more space in the tiny carriage.

In her scarred hands she held a photo. The edges had been worried at and discoloured, and there was tape over a tear down one side. She looked at it, long lashes casting shadows over her large, doe eyes.

_“Tokyo Central Station in two minutes.”_

Hearing her station called, she began to shuffle, unzipping pockets to place the photo in.

The photo was of a young man with black hair smiling nervously into a camera with an older man behind him, smiling gently. It was an old photo she had committed to memory. It was a smile she had not seen for a very long time.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and checked her phone for messages.

Nee-chan: _how far r u? I have everyone here_

She smiled, typing back: _it says 2 mins so excited ^.^_

Quietly, Fueguchi Hinami hoped that Kaneki had healed since she had left, even a little. She wondered how his degree was going; she wondered how his exams went. It wasn’t like they texted a great deal, but she hoped he was thinking outside the confines of his job.

Sensing they were close to the station, she slung on her backpack and stood, picking up the bag from under the seat. Awkwardly, muttering ‘excuse me’s and ‘pardon’s she made her way to the door where she was ready to jump out and meet the people she hadn’t seen in months.

* * *

 

The sun was rising when Hide finally reached down. It was marked with a buzz from his phone as all of the messages he hadn’t been able to receive suddenly appeared in his phone with the addition of service. He continued his way down, deciding not to check them just yet.

“Is that—Nagachika! Oi!”

Hide gripped the brakes and swerved to see who had called. To his surprise, a girl with bright hair was waving to him from the bus top.

Kusumi.

“Kusumi!” he cried, pedalling towards her. “Long time no see!”

He’d barely dismounted the bike when she rushed over, catching him in a hug. He chuckled. “Surely, I’m not _that_ special.”

It was comforting.

“You have _no idea_ how boring this place is without you!” her hair was loose beneath a knitted beanie. She’d thrown on a puffy jacket against the cold, and her hands were safely tucked away beneath some colourful mittens Hide knew her mother had made her. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back?”

“Sorry.” Hide grinned lazily. He leaned on the handlebars. “It can’t be that boring anyway, right? Having no more Takashis around really will ruin the fun, won’t it?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Kusumi groaned. The cold made the tip of her nose glow bright red. Hide grinned. He didn’t realise how much he’d missed the people here until he was back with them. He regretted not taking the time to try and strengthen their friendship. It was too late now.

Too late. Everything was too late.

“So, what’s the city like? Is it as shitty as I warned you? It is, isn’t it?” her eyes were bright. Hide was glad she was doing so well. He grinned.

“Well, depends where you go. There’s certainly no shortage of interesting people.”

“Interesting people are everywhere,” Kusumi reminded him. “Like here. Old ladies can be fun.”

“Yeah, if you want to shorten your lifespan,” Hide joked. “How are you? Are you doing any courses, or school? Just tell me everything I’ve missed, since my mother is still kind of angry with me, I think.”

Kusumi gave him a soft slap on the arm. “ _I’m_ angry with you, dummy.” She tried to pout angrily, but ended up grinning.

“I go to the university a few towns over. I actually live in the dorms there and come home on weekends. I’m studying Business Management. Then I can take over Ma’s shop.”

“Nice,” Hide said. “Are you on your way to the market? I can give you a lift.”

“Yes, please!” Kusumi said, sitting herself down on the back of the bike. “I was waiting for the bus, but we can go. Onwards!”

Hide laughed as they sped down icy roads, disregarding any means of safety. God, he’d missed this. He’d missed this so much. It was dumb to convince himself he’d been distant. He’d been so close with everyone. Why would he have thought otherwise?

“So have you met anyone?” Kusumi pried as they slowed down around a corner. “I know you won’t tell your parents if you have, so tell me!”

So she _did_ know him better than he’d thought.

“Maybe I did,” he said lightly. He swerved around the corner and slowed as they reached the marketplace. The early-morning fog was only just starting to thin as the sun melted the ice in the air. “Or maybe I didn’t.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Kusumi giggled. He could nearly hear her wriggling her eyebrows in her voice. “Do tell. I want names, I want places, I want dates, I want—”

“It’s not a thing,” he said quietly. “It didn’t go anywhere.”

Kusumi must have heard the solemness in his voice, because she was quiet for a long moment. Hide listened to the sound of his rolling wheels, the spokes clicking as they turned.

“So what’s their name?” Kusumi started again. Hide started to protest, but she jabbed him in the ribs with a sharp fingertip. “Nope. I don’t care what you say. What’s their name?”

Hide pouted. It couldn’t do much harm, right?

“Sasaki,” he murmured. “He’s in my Creative Writing Class.” _Was._

Kusumi laughed. “Typical! Meeting a guy in the class you don’t even like!”

_“Kusumi,”_ Hide whined. “Stop making fun of me.”

“Silence, child. Why didn’t it go any further?”

Hide bit back every sharp response he had on his tongue. Kusumi was just trying. She didn’t mean any harm, and Hide knew it. The only problem was that she didn’t know the half of what was happening.

“He, uh . . . had a lot on his plate,” Hide said. _I guess that’s one way of putting it._

“Oh, so he decided he didn’t have time for you?”

“What? No, that’s not what happened.” Hide focused on the bike. If he kept going like this, he’d probably end up agreeing with Kusumi despite her not knowing the full story. He shouldn’t.

“Then what _did_ happen?”

Hide swallowed. When in doubt, play it safe. “Um, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh,” Kusumi lapsed into silence. She remained mute until they’d reached the marketplace. Hide rested his bike against the wall, where Kusumi stood silently beside him, watching the whole procession.

“So, was it your fault, or should you try again?”

“What?”

Before Hide could react, Kusumi had pulled the phone from his pocket. “I hope you haven’t changed your password,” she said, grinning. Hide could only watch her numbly as she fluently keyed in his password, which he’d told her _last year_. She grinned devilishly.

“Hey now, that isn’t—”

“Sasaki Haise, right?” Kusumi grinned.

Hide began to reach for his phone. “Don’t—hey, cut that out. It won’t go well—”

Kusumi ducked under his arm and jogged away. “You still have his number, so _you_ must still like the guy.”

Hide started after her. “I’m serious, Kusumi. Don’t text him—”

“He’s so cute, though! He sends you emojis! He even knew how _bad_ you are with horror movies!”

“Kusumi, seriously, don’t—”

She evaded him once again. “Me-rry-Christ-mas-Ha-i-se. Sent!”

She tossed him his phone, and Hide caught it too late. The message was already sent.

Oh, God. How was he meant to tell her about this? Kaneki probably didn’t even use that other phone now that he didn’t go to school anymore.

But what if he did?

He sighed. “I swear to God, you cause me so much trouble.”

Kusumi struck out her tongue. “You can thank me later, _Hideyoshi_. I want to see selfies of you two!”

Hide really hated all these secrets.

* * *

 

_Kaneki had almost forgotten his routine to getting ready: Clothes, hair, hat, glasses. Touka’s makeup session. The feeling of small brushes painting his face somewhat similar colours to his own pale skin to mask how much like death he looked got stranger every time. He hated it a little bit, the whole business._

_It made Touka happy, though, and he didn’t hate Touka._

_“Done,” she said. “We should head down. Her train will be here soon, and we need to get to Tokyo Central first.”_

_For the first time in several weeks, ‘Haise’ turned on his phone._

_He saw a message:_

_Hide 0715:_ Merry Christmas Haise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS:
> 
> "Kaneki, you've been staring at that thing for five minutes straight," Touka said sharply. "If you don't get up we'll be late!"
> 
> "Oh . . . sorry." 
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are still putting up with my angst :P Seriously, I can never thank you guys enough!


	18. Organs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinami is a sweet cinnamon roll and Ayato can't deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday and I still love weekends  
> Thank you to everyone that commented and left kudos! I love you all! (´∀｀)♡

_“Hey, do you still like me?”_

_Kaneki studied her face: angular, elegant, cunning. It was everything she valued._

_“I don’t hate you,” he admitted. “But neither of us are good people.”_

_“You make me so sad, Kaneki!” Rize whined, pouting._

_She didn’t tell him he was wrong._

_She didn’t tell him he was a good person._

_Of course he wasn’t. Whilst she killed people, he sold them the tools to end their lives. Any factors before the deed never mattered._

_“You know,” Rize admitted, “ think I hate you.”_

_Kaneki tried to be sad. He really did._

_He just didn’t care anymore._

_“What? No tears. How dull.”_

_It was dull, wasn’t it?_

_Kaneki studied his book. Ironic, wasn’t it? To escape his suffering, he lost himself in worlds where other people suffered._

_Escape suffering with suffering. Replace despair with deeper despair._

_Replace pain with cruelty._

_“I wonder what the ghost of your today will look like, tomorrow,” Rize mused, studying her hands on the table’s lacquered surface. “I wonder what mine will look like.”_

_“I can guess,” Kaneki murmured. Rize laughed. If Kaneki were to describe her laugh, it was like the twinkling of a dripping faucet in a bathroom where someone lay drowned to death in the bathtub: Surrounded by death._

_“Likewise, Kaneki,” said Rize. “But one day, that pretty little mind of yours will break. Don’t be sad, it happens to all of us.”_

_“Like you?”_

_Rize’s grin turned sharp. “Mine didn’t break, Kaneki. I merely sharpened it.”_

* * *

 

Christmas and New Year’s at Hide’s home was always an affair. The house was filled to the brim with loud, boisterous and grinning Nagachikas, laughing and drinking. Hide found himself in a room too old and too young to properly socialise with.

As such, he sat himself on the decking outside and checked his phone anxiously. Ever since Kusumi had sent that text he’d been hovering over it, both waiting for and terrified for a reply. The more distance he had from Kaneki, the smaller the whole ordeal became. He knew it wasn’t good to think that way. He _knew_ it, but he couldn’t help it, and it was _terrifying._

And then Kusumi had just gone on the wavelength that Kaneki was actually _not_ a serial killer and was actually just Sasaki Haise, the delicate dorky dude with big glasses and a small voice. Fuck. Hide never seemed to move past that point in his thinking. He _wanted_ Sasaki to be one thing, and he _wanted_ Kaneki to be one thing, but they were _neither_ of those things.

Hide froze as someone sat down beside him on the decking. He looked towards the culprit, and saw none other than his mother.

“Now, busy evenings are the best times to discuss private matters,” she said, smiling. She knew Hide had to leave in seven days, and she wouldn’t let him out before he told her _everything._

Hide swallowed hard. His hands were about to shake, but he couldn’t afford to let her see.

“I guess,” he said, forcing a shaky smile. “Where’d you hear that?”

“It’s common sense,” she said, flipping a hand loosely. She held a cup of tea in her free hand, which steamed into the cold air. “So, spill. I _know_ your mouth is full of lies, Hide. I mean, unless you tell me you became best friends with someone called Washuu, it can’t be that bad.”

_Washuu._ There was the name again. Why was his mother so insistent about it?

“Who are the Washuus?” he questioned. “I don’t know any, but who are they?”

“Very bad people, Hide,” his mother said flatly. “To get involved with them is to sign a one-way deal to Hell.”

Hide let out a long breath. “Okay, well, that’s good because I’ve not met any.”

“Good start. Move along, now.”

Hide watched the landscape in front of him; rolling hills, misting clouds, the quiet bickering of the chicken hutch, the further murmurs of livestock and the whispers of running water. Now would be a great time to run.

“Ma,” he said, slowly. “What would you say if, like . . . I got a job somewhere . . . that you don’t like?”

“Don’t let your mother make _all_ your decisions, Hide,” she laughed. “Did you get a job in a strip club? As a stripper? Sorry, I don’t think your cut out for it.”

“Ma!” Hide yelled, face reddening. “No, I mean like the CCG.”

She gave him a generous, pensive moment. He watched her lazily lift the cup of tea to her lips and regard the darkness. Lowering it, she sighed and said, “Did you get a job at the CCG?”

Hide studied his hands. “Yes,” he said. “I work there part-time as a delivery boy.”

“Hmm,” Yoko sighed. “I see. So _this_ is what you were so ashamed of. I can see why you’ve had that tail of yours between your legs. I don’t like the CCG, Hide. It’s corrupt. Full of government funding and angry, bad people. It’s also a one-stop shop of Washuus, but as a delivery boy I guess you wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”

Hide didn’t speak. His throat felt dry and it stung _badly._

“Quit. You’ll do better.”

“It’s not that simple,” Hide said. “They pay me a lot. A _lot,_ Ma.”

“Work two other jobs. Be a stripper, I don’t care—but don’t go and do sex for money. _That_ is not a job I’ll accept you doing. If I find you doing that—”

“Relax, relax, I don’t want to.” Hide said quickly, waving his hands. “I just . . . you always said that the CCG was bad, and . . . well, it was pretty terrifying.”

Yoko sipped her tea calmly. “So long as you don’t become an Investigator, I suppose I can deal with it.”

“If I may ask, what’s so bad with the CCG?”

“Pah,” Yoko spat, “what _isn’t_ bad about the CCG, Hide?” She eyed him suspiciously. “They justify what they do by saying its to keep the peace from crimes too dangerous for the police to take, but really they just kill people. You would have noticed how they hate to arrest people? How many cases of ‘self-defence’ have you seen so far?”

Hide felt his stomach sinking. He _had_ noticed it. So many criminals killed in self-defence, maybe one in a hundred being arrested.

“You’ve noticed,” said Yoko, downing the rest of her tea. She placed it on the wood and crossed her legs under her.

“I can’t just quit, Ma,” Hide protested. “The pay’s good, my co-workers actually give a damn about me—”

“Everyone betrays you, Hide,” said Yoko bitterly. “Humanity’s loyalty is limited to one’s own survival. Don’t _ever_ forget that. You have to look after yourself.”

“Number one?”

“Exactly.” The steel in his mother’s eyes didn’t fade. “You know that, so why? Why keep it up? There must be other jobs you can do.”

Hide was silent.

“You’ve got more on that tongue of yours,” said Yoko slowly. “Something that’s tying to the CCG.”

Hide’s mouth was dry. Shit, his Ma was smart.

“Will you tell me, or are you going to let it come and bite you on the arse?”

Hide swallowed. Now or never. If it were never, he’d be locked in his room.

“Maybe, I, uh . . . like someone.” Like, not _liked._ Jeez, he was such a wreck.

“Someone at the CCG?” his mother raised a sceptical eyebrow. The silence stretched between them, and he could basically hear the connections forming in his mother’s brain.

“Someone _connected_ to the CCG. Favourably? Unfavourably? Give me some answers, Hide. I may be a great detective but I’m your mother.”

Hide let out a pent-up breath. He contemplated running. Just standing up and sprinting into the cold. He could do it, right?

“I think . . . they’re a good person,” he said slowly, every tiny, hopeful rationale he’d been brewing tumbling off the tip of his tongue. “But they’re involved with a bad lot.”

“The world may be grey, but people are defined by their actions. If they’re with a bad lot, they must be a bad person.” Hide’s mother was as unforgiving as always. Hide swallowed. He’d dreaded this so much.

Kaneki’s actions weren’t very redeeming.

“If they’re involved with the gangs, stay away. Gangs means drugs, and dealers—”

“Have no soul,” Hide finished. God, his mother was so opinionated. But it wasn’t her that made him sick. It was because she was probably right, and Hide was hopelessly stuck.

Yoko nodded in a silent agreement. “Jesus, Hide. If I’d known you’d get so deep into shit, I’d have come after you on the next train. Cut your ties. Now. Don’t waste any more breath on them.”

Hide didn’t think he _had_ any breath.

“No, they were smart enough to leave,” he said before he could stop himself. “That’s why . . . I think they’re not all bad.” What was this, the schoolgirl hope? _Senpai can’t be too cold just because he’s rejected me 100 times! He must just have something else on his plate!_

Yoko shook her head, clearly disappointed. “Respect their wishes. Leave them be. If your best interests are really at heart, then they’ll not give you any trouble.”

Hide sighed. “I guess.”

“Don’t be so stubborn,” Yoko said lightly. She stood, stretching like a cat. “You never know. Maybe they _are_ a good person, but if they have something to hide then there’s a limit to how good they are.”

“Intense as always,” Hide internally cried. His mother could only smirk.

“What you don’t lose, you regret. Don’t try and run away from something you can change.”

* * *

 

Standing on the platform, Touka wondered what had gotten into Kaneki. In the space of maybe an hour, something had shifted, and he seemed nearly _happy_ again. Sometimes she wished he’d open up and tell her what was going on.

Beside her, Ayato shifted uncomfortably. She resisted the urge to grab his hand and squeeze it. He was nearly taller than her, and he doubted that he’d like to be seen with his smaller sister holding his hand. She knew he was uncomfortable because the CCG knew his face, but he hadn’t found any desire to wear a disguise like Kaneki.

Besides, Kaneki had taken any crimes away from Ayato’s name.

“I think that’s her train,” Kaneki said, looking out. Even under layers of makeup, Touka could see the way the skin was unhealthy in his eye sockets. Despite a brightening of attitude, it seemed his poor lifestyle choices remained.

Touka wished someone would hold her hand, dammit. She couldn’t hold Ayato’s, and Kaneki was freaky about touch.

They watched the train slow to a stop, and Touka felt her anticipation boiling. She hadn’t seen Hinami in _months,_ and she’d got the text a minute ago and she was so excited to see her dear, sweet Hinami again—

The doors opened and people burst out, but there was no sign of Hinami.

Touka scanned the crowd, but she saw no head of pale-brown hair. “Do you see her?” she prompted the boys on either side of her.

Kaneki lifted the glasses off his face for a better view. “No, I don’t—”

“I see her!” Ayato said, grinning. He dashed off before Touka could stop him, leaving her lost behind.

“Dammit,” she swore. “Where’s he go?”

Kaneki grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him, following Ayato’s path.

It took Touka a tense second not to pull her hand away. Kaneki didn’t _do_ physical touch. He didn’t really do much of anything in the ways of talking or interacting at all. His hand was warm and rough on hers. Was that _really_ Kaneki?

She studied the line of shoulders, the way he held his head, the sagging of that pathetic beanie on the back of his head, hiding those white locks that served as a permanent reminder of what he’d lost.

_“He looked better for a while, but . . .”_

His gaze followed Ayato’s movements in the packed station, and she saw the calmness that had settled over his face.

_“Tell me about this guy he’s been hanging out with.”_

Was this really the Kaneki she knew? Would the Kaneki she knew ever take her hand, follow the path of her sneaky brother and lead her towards Hinami at a station full of crowded people the day after a job where he had slaughtered six men? Could he hold himself up despite all the thoughts that were flying through his head? Could he really be so secure about himself when Touka wasn’t?

He glanced over his shoulder at her, and for once there was something other than despair etched into his features. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it was something different. Something _better._ Like relief.

_I’m sorry,_ he seemed to be saying.

“Idiot,” she whispered to herself.

“Touka!” she heard a familiar voice yell. Hinami released Ayato, whom she had enveloped in a hug, leaving his face pink, and rushed towards her. Her hair was longer, clipped back, her fringe combed off her face. In her uniform, Touka could hardly believe that only a few years ago she’d let Child Authorities take them.

Touka stooped and threw her arms around the younger girl, burying her face in her hair. Hinami was taller, fuller, brighter and _happier._ God, what a day.

“I missed you,” Hinami whispered into her shoulder.

Touka held her at a distance before reaching up to squeeze her cheeks. “Jeez, at this rate you’ll make me cry. Look at you, dummy. So emotional.”

Hinami’s eyes were red and beginning to water. Touka wicked away the tears with her thumbs. “You silly duffer.”

Hinami grinned, showing off her perfect smile. Touka felt her heart melt. God, how lucky was she to have Hinami in her life?

Hinami turned to Kaneki, who gave her a smile. Hinami, only being sensitive when she felt it, tackled him into a similarly intense hug. Kaneki rubbed her head affectionately, saying something Touka couldn’t hear over the bustle of the train station.

“We should go,” she told Ayato, who nodded, picking up Hinami’s bag. His ears were still red, and Touka couldn’t help but grin. No other girl would have the nerve to approach his salty, salty arse.

She turned back and saw Kaneki smiling and handing Hinami his glasses. She put them on and made a face at him.

Maybe they weren’t such a broken home, after all.

* * *

 

Hinami knew it was coming. At five-thirty, Touka sat them down for take-away dinner before Kaneki left for a job, and Touka went to work her shift in Helter Skelter until twelve. Ayato didn’t have work this week, thank God. She hated being alone in this apartment.

“Tell us about school,” Touka said, handing her the takeaway they’d ordered.

Hinami smiled. “They elected me Student Council President.”

“Really?” Touka said in surprise, grinning ear to ear. “That’s amazing!”

Ayato nodded mutely beside her. He was uncharacteristically quiet, Hinami noticed.

Hinami grinned at Touka and said, “I was really surprised! My friends were the ones who ran the campaign, and I wasn’t even expecting it.”

“It’s natural,” said Kaneki, soft voice carrying in the room. “How could they not?”

Hinami felt the worry on her shoulders lift every time he spoke. Something had changed in his life, and he was the better for it. She wanted to ask him what it was before she left.

“I didn’t think so. I thought I was too quiet, and people didn’t like me. But then my friend was like, ‘don’t let your doubts rule you! You write the newsletter every week!’ And I sort of just followed her after that.”

Touka smiled. “It’s good to have friends like that.”

“Speaking of friends, how’s Yoriko?” Hinami grinned, breaking her disposable chopsticks. “Did she get her degree?”

Touka went red, staring into her food intently. “Y-Yeah. She’s fine. We’re fine. Everything’s great.” Touka laughed nervously, shoving food into her mouth as an excuse to stop talking. Lost, Hinami looked to Ayato for answers. He shrugged and mouthed ‘dating’.

“You’re _dating_?” Hinami cried, jumping to her feet in excitement. Touka’s face was still red, but she nodded, chewing quickly on her food. Hinami grinned, wanting to run over and give Touka yet another hug. “Finally!”

Touka spluttered and looked like she could faint at the table. Kaneki watched the scene with a mixture of tentativeness and fondness.

“What about you, Kaneki? Have you met anyone?”

“Well . . .” Kaneki poked at his food, pensive. “I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Ayato supplied. “He has.”

“A-Ayato!” Kaneki huffed, ears going red. He turned his attention to his plate of food.

Hinami watched the three of them in awe. What had happened without her?

“What’s their name?”

Kaneki didn’t answer, quietly eating. Hinami watched with pride as he ate away the food on his plate. The worry she’d been carrying grew lighter and lighter. He was eating, he was smiling, and he had someone.

This was a start.

“What about Ayato?”

Ayato froze, chopsticks shaking in his hand. Touka gave him a sneaky sideways glance, smiling evilly. Ayato glared at her. “N-No. No, I haven’t.”

“I wonder why,” Touka said, grinning toothily.

“Shut up, stupid,” Ayato grunted, eating his mouthful. With his mouth full he continued, “As if you can talk. Why didn’t you come back home the other day after your ‘date’?”

“Ayato!”

“Honesty,” grinned the younger Kirishima. Hinami couldn’t help it: she laughed.

She loved her family: made of broken pieces, stuck together with the wrong glue, missing parts here and there, but still full of raw, good intentions. They were a family.

She loved them.

* * *

 

As he was helping her clean up, Hide gathered his courage and dared ask one of the many things he’d always wanted to:

“Hey, Ma, why don’t we ever have your family around?”

“Dead,” said Yoko easily. She was rinsing dishes in the sink. “That’s all there is.”

“But surely there’s _someone,”_ Hide said. She’d said the same thing for years, and no matter how many times he asked, he never saw any pain in her eyes, only annoyance. As much as it felt insensitive, he wanted to know.

“If there is, I don’t want to have anything to do with them,” Yoko said. “What’s gotten into you lately? Curious?”

“Sorry,” Hide said automatically.

Yoko gave him a gentle look over her shoulder. “Don’t be. I’m just an old, bitter woman. In actuality, my family probably has heaps of connections, but I don’t want to go near them.”

Hide wanted to ask more, but he felt put in place. So many times he’d asked, and so many times he was even more mystified. It was like he’d always heard: the greatest mysteries are the ones we think we know the most about.

He fell into a rhythm, silently drying and putting away dishes that his mother washed. They didn’t speak. His father had drunk too much and had collapsed in bed, completely spent. Yoko had fussed over him before dismissing it entirely, despite his offers to help. She was like that, sometimes.

“What are you going to do next semester? You leave next Friday, don’t you?”

Hide nodded. “Yeah. I was actually thinking of taking up Criminal Psychology.”

“Typical,” Yoko sighed. “Well, when you’re part of a late-night murder drama, call me.”

“There’s more job opportunities than being that one extra on a bad soap,” he insisted. “I could work for the police. Or the CCG.”

“You already work for the CCG,” Yoko said. “A delivery boy is too much, already.”

“I won’t quit,” he said quietly, shelving a plate.

At the sink, his mother shrugged. “I thought as much. Fine. Go do your thing. If you can keep your grades up, I guess I can’t complain. But you be careful, you hear me? No bad people with good intentions.”

Hide winced. She’d remembered their conversation perfectly. “Okay,” he said. “It’s a deal.”

“Good.”

Hide wasn’t sure if he was lying, this time.

He had seven more days on break before he caught his train back to the city. What would he do when he got back.

“Maybe I should join a club,” Hide mused. “Sports, maybe.”

“Yeah, because you’d be good at that,” his mother joked.

“You wound me,” Hide said, dramatically looking away. “Such pain, mother!”

“Oh, be quiet,” she laughed. “Do what you want. You were good at karate when you did it. Start doing that again.”

“I was taught by Yoshino in the Community Center,” Hide winced. “He said ‘wow, good kick!’ to every kid in the class and never hosted another lesson.”

“Maybe you’re good at karate, then,” said Yoko. “It’ll be good to learn some basic self-defence.”

Hide internally sighed. “I guess.”

“Oh, stop being a pushover. Do what you want, I don’t care. Do what makes _you_ happy. And stay out of trouble. Don’t go to parties. Have extra locks put in, too. Maybe even hang some shoes on the door for good measure.”

“Ma, that’s too far.”

“You never know,” she said.

Hide laughed. “Yeah, I guess.” They both knew he wasn’t going to do many of the things she’d just listed off.

Yoko pulled out the plug to the sink. She wiped her hands on a tea towel. “We’re done.”

“Oh. That was quick.”

Yoko leaned on the sink, giving him a warm, motherly smile. “You’ve grown up so much, Hide. I’m sorry I’m such a worrywart, I’m just terrified of losing you.”

Hide reached out and took her hand. “Don’t you know? Fools never die.”

His mother smiled. She reached up and kissed his forehead. “Merry Christmas, Hide.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Ma.”

Lying in bed that night, Hide checked his phone again and found no response.

* * *

 

_The fifth day he checked, he received a text:_

_Haise, 1 JAN 0001:_ Happy New Year, Hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! (ˆ⌣ˆ )
> 
> Thank you again to all you beautiful people that read this, leave kudos and comments. You guys are the reason I write and I'm always grateful for any feedback. You guys are the best!


	19. Spanish Sahara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace for that BITTERSWEETNESS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all responses to the last chapter! I loved them all! Hope you enjoy this chapter! ヾ(●・◇・●)ノ

_When Kaneki awoke, he found himself in a room surrounded by sleeping bodies on metal stretchers. Through the slivers his eyes had opened, he scanned the room from his prone position._

_He tried to sit up, but pain exploded from his abdomen, and he fell back. The trolley shuddered and squealed, echoing in the static room._

_Lying on the cold metal table, all he could think of was the smell of burning and the way every fibre of his being hurt._

_He had to escape._

_He pressed down where it hurt: to the left of his stomach, trying to hold it in place. He could feel wetness seeping through his flimsy hospital gown—they’d taken his clothes, too—that was warm. His blood. Had he really been beaten up that badly? But then . . . where was he? Why was he there?_

Don’t think about it, _he told himself harshly. He was running away, wasn’t he? Now he had somewhere else to run away from. He had to leave now._

_Trying to hold his abdomen in one piece, he let his right leg slip down first, stretching until it scratched at the floor. Biting down hard, he let his other leg down too. The trolley rattled and rolled, but nothing stirred. He leaned against it hard, desperately trying to hold his body together. He felt like it would fall apart, like some part of the fire had gotten under his skin and was killing him. He could see spots, and blood roared in his ears._

I have to run away.

_It didn’t hurt. Physical pain didn’t hurt. That’s what he told himself as he dragged one limb after another down the room, leaning on each trolley. Still figures didn’t stir, ranging from middle-aged men to girls who were probably younger than himself. God, had they been abducted?_

Don’t think about it!

_He hated himself. He hated himself so much._

_At the end of the room was a metal door. Kaneki began to pray that no lock was there. If he was locked in, he was stuck. He had to run. He had to get away. Maybe he’d be running across the streets of Tokyo in a fucking plastic dress, but he didn’t care. He could—_

_He couldn’t go to Anteiku. Not anymore._

_The hot tears seared his cheeks and he progressed forward, his free hand lurching out and grabbing the knob. It turned._

_Thank God! He wanted to scream._

_He couldn’t._

_Warm air rushed at him like a wind, and only then did he realise how cold it had been in the room. Why were they there? Why?_

Stop. Move.

Don’t think about what isn’t yours.

_Leaning on the door, he pulled himself through. Blood was seeping through his fingers, and he could hear droplets falling. Shit, what would he do? Where would he go? Was there any exit?_

_The corridor he had entered into was dark and empty._

_No matter._

_He slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. The pain was growing, eating up his nerves and blood until he’d bleed to death on the ground. Shit, was he going to die? Was this it? What would happen now?_

_He didn’t want to die._

_“Move!” he swore at himself, forcing a leg to take another step. He was starting to lose feeling in his arm that propped him on the wall. Shit, was he losing blood now?_

_No matter._

_He dragged his sorry arse along the wall, not daring to look back. It was like everything faded from his mind, lit with the intense splashing of pain and blood. He couldn’t afford to look behind him. He’d be consumed. Why had this happened? What had he done wrong? What warranted so much_ pain _?_

_“Yo, one of the patients is missing.”_

_The words rebounded against the walls of the corridor, reaching him. There was a turn not far ahead. They wouldn’t see him if he made it there—_

_“I see him! Son of a bitch is trying to escape!”_

_Shit! Kaneki swore, trying to move. He was crying freely now, but he couldn’t feel his breathing at all. It was soundless apart from the distant huffing of breath and tides of blood rushing around in his head. He had to get away, he had to get away, he had to get away—_

_Something grabbed him by the hair and wrenched him back, slamming him down onto his skinny back. The air left his lungs in a great ‘whoosh!’ and he couldn’t move. He stared up at his assailant, but spots were dancing in his vision. Everything looked dark and demonic. He must have been in Hell, right? He must have._

_“Fucking little shit,” the man spat on the ground beside him. Kaneki felt the air in his lungs, rushing in and out. He had to run. He had to run_ now. _The man would take him, and he would die._

_Seeing his struggling efforts to escape, the man pressed his heel into Kaneki’s wounded side._

_He screamed._

* * *

 

“Are you sure you have everything?” Yoko was relentless as they stood at the station, waiting for the train with both dread and anticipation. Hide grinned, layered up the throat in his warm, bright clothes.

“Yes,” he repeated. “All packed and ready.”

Ever since he’d replied the text, he couldn’t stop himself from needing to _do_ something. One of those things had been packing.

Yoko huffed into her scarf, and his dad grinned at him, ruffling his hair. Hide almost felt like he hadn’t spent enough time with his dad, so guilty of facing his mother. The older Nagachika didn’t seem to mind.

“Look after yourself,” his dad grinned.

“Will do.” Hide saluted.

Yoko grumbled and reached into her pocket before producing a single yellow envelope. “Because you’ve made me so worried, take this.”

“What—”

“Don’t open it!” Yoko hissed as Hide began to reach for the edges. Hide blanched, hands frozen where they were holding the now off-limits envelope.

“It’s a letter. Hide, promise me you will _never_ open it unless you are in the _shit._ After you told me everything you’d gotten yourself into, I had to write that up I was so worried. Don’t even try opening it and then finding an identical envelope. If you’ve already read it when you need it, it won’t count.”

“I’m going to pretend I understand,” Hide said, already trying to figure out what form of sorcery could bind him to the contents remaining confidential. It was probably something deeply moral and heart-warming, only to be opened in his darkest hour.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” Yoko insisted. “I swear to God, Hide.” She pointed at the letter angrily, saying, “if you ever have a bad run-in, if you ever need help outside of what _we_ can give, this is what you need. You must never, ever open it, or it won’t count. It is of the utmost importance that you don’t know what’s in here.”

Hide swallowed. He glanced towards his dad, who had a similar firmness in his gaze. Wow, what was this? A eulogy speech? Despite what his mother said, it couldn’t be _that_ bad, right?

He put it in his bag. When he was home, he’d think about it.

Yoko gave him a sharp nod. “It shouldn’t mean anything if you stay safe.”

“Right,” Hide said, thoroughly confused. Behind him, his train whirled into the station, throwing snow into the air.

In a few months, he’d be back for summer break, he told himself. He’d be back.

He’d be fine.

* * *

 

If Kaneki were honest, he should have expected it.

He should have.

But he didn’t.

He straightened off the corpse. Until a few moments ago, he’d been straddling the guy, who had been struggling like mad. Kaneki didn’t know his name. He didn’t need to. It was amazing how fragile life could be in the wrong hands. One movement and life could bleed out. Life could spray like a fountain onto the attacker.

Kaneki was sure he’d been thoroughly painted in death’s red rainbow of violence.

He stepped away, pulling out his phone. He’d been sent the instructions.

  1. _Complete initial objective_



He could tick that box. He was surrounded by three dead men. What next?

  1. _Retrieve_



‘Retrieve’ was Itori’s way of saying ‘abduct’. The owner was around here. A youngish guy with choppy dark hair, distributing what his girlfriend made. That was, until the girlfriend had taken herself to _Helter Skelter_ and asked them to kill the guy. She gave no reasons, but Kaneki was familiar with the determination in her eyes. Hate under a fancy disguise.

It didn’t really bother Kaneki what her motive had been. They’d been causing trouble to GLG by interacting with Aogiri. Aogiri, who was probably about to take on V and slaughter half of the city’s gangs. Kaneki wondered who would die, this time.

The men had been guarding a doorway. It was a ticket to his entrance. He crept in, looking around. In the distance, he saw a single light on. They’d planned an attack. What would they do, hide in the shadows whilst he stood in the light for them all to see?

What were they going to do? Kill him?

He could have laughed at the hilarity of it.

He followed the hallway down, giving any dark doorways a glance into. It seemed like the guy was either terribly underprepared, smug, or just stupid. Did he really not believe his girlfriend would send someone to get him?

“ _It’s not him I care about,”_ she’d said, sipping a drink, _“I just want the ‘business’ to crash. That’s the only way to destroy him.”_

“ _How many pieces do you want of him?”_ he’d asked.

“ _As many as you can bring me.”_

As Kaneki had suspected, the room was empty. It was a kitchen, small, the yellow glow of the bulb illuminating the old, floral pattern on the tiles around the stove, on the tablecloth on the round table in the centre of the room. It seemed like a moment from another time.

Kaneki heard him approach for a solid three seconds. Either he was untrained, or he was overconfident.

He spun around, seeing the knife coming at him. Kaneki grabbed the man’s wrist and slammed it into the table, causing him to cry out in pain. Remarkably, he kept the knife in his hand and leaned back to head-butt Kaneki in the face. Kaneki ducked away, but in that time the man had prepared a punch with his free hand.

Was he trained?

Kaneki jumped onto the table, releasing the man’s wrist. The legs of that pathetic dinner table to buckle, and they gave way. Kaneki jumped back off it, kicking the table in the man’s direction. He watched the taller, skinnier man backed into the doorway that table was far too wide to get through, and disappeared.

Kaneki realised that he was surrounded by other doorways. Where would he run?

This time the man was flying at him, foot outstretched in a well-aimed kick to his lower back from behind. Kaneki didn’t have the time to evade it and took it, slamming him into the table’s flat surface.

Play dead.

It was an art he had refined.

He heard the man creep up behind him, trying to figure out whether Kaneki was really out. Of course he wasn’t, and everyone knew it. Now it was a moment to see if the man really had the nerve to kill someone with his own hands rather than his girlfriend’s creations. Would he do it?

When he was close enough, Kaneki didn’t care.

He slammed his arms onto the ground and shot his legs out behind him. They connected with the man’s to give a satisfying, wet _crunch_ sound. The man fell back, and Kaneki dived on top of him, grabbing the wrist with the knife and prying it free.

Looking down, Kaneki wasn’t sure why his girlfriend even cared. The weak would die on their own.

“What’s your name?” Kaneki asked. Behind the fabric of his mask, his words felt like they were someone else’s.

“My name—shit, did _she_ send you after me, that bitch—”

Kaneki slammed the butt of the knife hard into the man’s nose. He screamed, gripping at it. Kaneki watched with nonchalance from his spot on the man’s stomach as blood began to drip out between his fingers.

“Your girlfriend did send me,” he confirmed dully. “You’re going to die.”

Kaneki grabbed him by the collar and slammed him down hard, repetitively until he was knocked out. He stood, hoisting the man over his shoulder like a sac. He’d really broken the man’s legs, Kaneki realised. Maybe Uta would fix him up later, before his inevitable death.

Kaneki carried him out into the dark where the air was still heavy with the scent of blood. It almost sounded like rain puddles when he walked through the mess he’d left.

“My, you’ve been busy, _Kaneki._ ”

Kaneki tried to be scared.

He wasn’t.

He turned slowly; grey eyes watching the looming figure of the man emerge from the dark, arms outstretched, still fashionably sharp in a suit and tie. Furuta Nimura.

“No rest for the wicked,” Kaneki supplied, smiling thinly. “Speaking of which, I could have sworn you were dead.” _I killed you._

Furuta gave a tight shrug, making a show of pulling on a pair of bright red gloves. “You may be cursed with the inability to die, but there are some of us that have very good healing as well.”

“So, if I were to fill you full of lead, would you die?”

Furuta smiled. “Would you?”

Kaneki’s good humour faded. “You led my men and me into a trap. I thought you died, but clearly I was wrong. Shame. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to kill you right now.” Kaneki wanted to leave. The more distance between he and Furuta, the better. He had things to do, and Furuta’s evasion of death was provoking that familiar burn Kaneki tried his best to stifle: hate.

He turned. “I trust you can die on your own.”

“Say, Kaneki, what’s seven less than one thousand?”

“I have no idea,” Kaneki said, walking away. “Absolutely none. Don’t you know? I’m terrible at mathematics.”

* * *

 

The morning after Hide arrived brought with it its own share of surprises.

“ _Yo, want to come to a party?”_

“I literally get back from home yesterday, and you want me to go out with you?”

Hide had been awoken by Takashi’s call. On the other side of the line, Takashi laughed. “ _Yes, I do. Satsuki will be there! Come on, it can’t be that bad, even if you hate parties.”_

Hide mulled it over as he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth. It didn’t _seem_ like a bad idea.

_You could even see Kaneki—_

“I’ll go,” Hide gave in. “What time?”

“ _I can pick you up in my car, no biggie_.” Oh yeah, Takashi had a car now. He’d got it for Christmas from his uncle and had been sending Hide photos of it all week. Hide hadn’t checked once.

“Sweet,” said Hide. “Can’t wait to see your ride.”

“ _You have no idea,”_ Takashi said. Hide could tell he was grinning. Even if Takashi felt distant sometimes, it was surely just Hide’s imagination. Like Kusumi, he’d just misread it all. He was just wrong, right?

“I’ll see you tonight. You remember where my dorm is?”

“ _Of course!”_

Hide hung up, finished his morning routine and made himself a coffee, which he promptly filled with sugar and milk to tone down the taste. He sent a text to his parents, saying he’d made it home fine.

“Are you doing anything this Wednesday?” Nishio asked, walking in.

“No?” Hide tried, caught off-guard. “Why?”

Nishio ran a tired hand through his hair as he started the kettle again. “I know someone who wants to meet you. She’s . . . interested in you.”

“Hmm. It wouldn’t be that fair to her, though.”

“She doesn’t want to _date_ you. God. Look, are you free or not? It counts as dinner.”

What was significant about Wednesdays? Who was this ‘girl’? Was it related to Nishio?

“What’s her name?”

“Touka,” Nishio said. It wasn’t a lie—of course not, why would it be? Hide wanted to slap himself. He’d been around his mother for too long. Nishio wasn’t a bad guy.

“And what does she want with me?”

“She wants to talk to you about the Creative Writing course.” Hide watched him push his glasses back smoothly. A practiced movement. “She wants to go to Kamii, you see.”

_Lies?_

“Sure,” Hide said, grinning. “Where is it?”

“A place called not far from here. She’s offered to pay for dinner, so you don’t have to worry about spending your single-yen coins.”

“She doesn't need to,” Hide said, waving him off. “I’m a big boy. I can pay for it myself.”

“ _Sure,”_ Nishio said slowly and sarcastically. “Well, I’ll tell her. Keep your Wednesday free. Don’t you have work on Wednesdays?”

“Nope,” he said. “All clear.”

“Good,” Nishio huffed, pouring himself a black coffee, “she’ll be happy to meet you.”

* * *

 

Kaneki sat at the bar, sipping the drink Itori had forced on him. “It’s Saturday!” she’d said. “Have a party!”

Kaneki didn’t feel like celebrating.

He’d nearly pulled out his gun and filled Furuta’s head full of lead in that alley the other day. Whilst he knew the rational option supported his actions, he couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t. He wasn’t scared, so why? Why let it go? What was stopping him?

“What’s into you today, Kaneki?” Roma asked from her side of the bar. Kaneki gave her a low look, studying her childish face, crescent-moon hairclip and the way she wore her uniform precisely and neatly.

“Nothing.”

Roma very surreptitiously crept away. Dimly, Kaneki wondered why she kept the act up: he could basically smell the blood on her hands from this distance, yet she pretended to be shy around the people of the bar.

_But isn’t that just like you, Sasaki?_

Kaneki finished his drink. So what if he was?

“Does Uta have any other jobs for me tonight?” he asked her, and Roma shook her head quickly, smiling impishly.

“Nope. You’re free.”

“Good,” said Kaneki, slipping off the stool. “See you tomorrow.”

The gun felt hot, pressing against his ribs through the fabric of his jumper. He should have taken it out and emptied the barrel. He could have, so why didn’t he? Furuta was _different,_ and different meant dangerous. For whatever reason, Furuta hadn’t died when Kaneki had been sure he’d slit the bastard’s throat for endangering his men.

Was Furuta like him?

No, Kaneki told himself angrily. No one was like him.

The Garden was connected to V, who was currently under way destroying half of the city’s gangs and rendering them unable to fight back, all the while hiding the bodies. Destroying the evidence. Even the stench of blood and death faded after a time. Houses could be cleaned, bodies could be burnt.

Sometimes Kaneki felt like it was a city run by ghosts.

No. Rize was connected to V, and Rize displayed no signs of his ailment. Furuta wasn’t _like_ him, but he was resilient to death. Was V trying to make people like him?

Or had Kanou been trying to make people like those in V?

Kaneki breathed out into the cold air. Snow had melted off the sidewalk, leaving a wet film over the asphalt and concrete. Everything seemed to be sweating and cold, grey and dark. It suited him.

Kaneki checked his phone again. He studied it, and wondered how the other phone was doing. As Sasaki Haise, what kind of life would he lead? Would Sasaki have filled Furuta’s skull with lead and copper bullets?

Watching a car speed by in the quiet street, he already knew the answer.

* * *

 

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Hide swore as he climbed into Takashi’s brand-new car, descending into the heated air. Takashi laughed at him, and Hide took a moment to study the other passenger: Satsuki. Her long dark hair had been combed straight, her fringe styled perfectly. She wore a tight, beige top and a fancy dark skirt.

Hide felt like a pauper in the car, very suddenly.

“I heard you went back to the country to see your family,” Satsuki said, trying to make friendly conversation. “Takashi says you went to the same school.”

“Hmm? Yeah, we did. Fun times. You should have _seen_ the shit he did,” Hide supplied, grinning cheekily. Takashi snickered at the wheel.

“As if you can talk.”

Hide let himself relax into the seat, contributing only occasionally. He regarded the passing world, and thought for a second that he saw a dark figure with a head of glowing white.

Hide smiled to himself.

He was probably mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked the chapter!
> 
> As always, thank you guys so much for your continued support! Just the fact that people read this makes me so happy (* >ω


	20. In the Midst of my Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touka is angry all the time and will fight everyone also everyone is sad and Kaneki is so confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning: this is completely unbeta'd and I haven't even read it through yet. I'll do it later. I just wanted to post it.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: I proofed it and cleared it up a bit. I didn't even realise there were so many mistakes I'm sorry.

Hide rubbed his arms to keep off the cold. True to Nishio’s word, he’d been dragged to dinner that Wednesday night. “Eight o’clock, and we can’t be late,” he’d said seriously. “She’ll never shut up if we’re late.”

Hide had been stressed about getting there on time, but apparently he shouldn’t have worried.

Checking his phone, he saw that it was drifting towards ten o’clock at night. They’d arrived at eight o’clock sharp, and the mysterious girl ‘Touka’ had yet to show up. Damn, Hide was _sure_ he’d heard the name before.

He’d taken a breather from the loud café to enjoy the cool air. Tiny flakes of snow were falling again, tonight, glowing in the ray of light cast by the streetlamp. The weather wasn’t _bad,_ it was just that he couldn’t help but wonder why someone would be so late to something if they were so fussy about others on time. There had to be a reason, he was sure.

He slumped against the brick wall and breathed in the air. It was as fresh as the city got, and he could still smell the smoke seeping out of the building’s pores as the night came, like the entire city took a moment to breathe in the stillness.

Hide pulled out his phone and checked it. Futile. As if there’d be anything.

Bored, Hide paced up and down the front of the café. He was sure Nishio was watching him, but Hide didn’t really care. His ski jacket glowed orange in the dark, and he would have been more worried if people _weren’t_ looking at him, right then.

As he reached the far end, he studied up and down the street it was on. No cars went by in the dark. In the distance he heard the rattle of the subway. A pedestrian crossed at the lights, their umbrella held above them to keep them dry from the snow. Quiet. Civil.

Breathing.

Dimly, Hide wondered what kind of person this ‘Touka’ would be. A girl, interested in Kamii. Why would she ask _him_? She’d have to know Nishio, but who did Nishio know?

Hide had no idea.

Hide slumped against the wall, trying to relax. He was so _bored!_ He could have been doing anything right then—he could have been at a club or a party with Takashi, even—but instead he was stuck outside, thinking about things that probably shouldn’t be considered. Like a text. Or a letter.

Or a boy.

Hide heard a conversation travel down the street, and as he looked towards it, he saw two youths in dark clothes, smoking. One had dark hair, and the other had a beanie.

Even under it, Hide could see bright ends poking through.

Oi, was that . . . ? Hide didn’t stop before he started. Dark clothes, light hair, beanie, smoking—who else, right? What chance!

Wait.

Hide stopped, foot about to step onto the road. What would he think if it wasn’t Kaneki? Even worse, what would Kaneki think if it _was_ Kaneki? Argh, so many problems!

He should go for it. Stop being such a pushover, his mother would say.

Hide had hesitated too long. By now the youths were clearly visible, and Hide knew it wasn’t Kaneki. His hair was blonde, yellowish, and he was taller and stockier than Kaneki. His black-haired partner and he were engaged in a grumbling conversation that Hide didn’t really care to be part of.

Hide stopped. Turned. Walked back. Checked his phone: _22:00._ Sighed. Turned. Re-entered. Sat down.

He and Nishio didn't talk. In fact, Nishio looked incredibly pissed. He was mumbling under his breath, probably about being left so late. Hide wasn’t sure if he wanted a conversation, but he was a bit nervous about approaching a thundercloud.

That was when she swept in:

Touka.

She was wearing a waistcoat and skirt, tights and a bowtie. A work uniform. Her hair was short, combed over one of her eyes in a way that framed her face, like a throwback to an emo phase turned fashionable. Her dark hair seemed wispy in the right light, like she was older than she looked.

But she looked younger than Hide.

Hide pieced together her features like a puzzle, trying to remember where each part had come from: the small nose, the large eyes, the delicate lips so expertly painted with make-up. Something about her was eerily familiar, and Hide couldn’t tell why.

Touka sat herself down at their table without so much as uttering an apology for her lateness. She hailed a waiter over for a coffee before turning to address the situation. Her eyes went straight to Hide.

Dark eyes. Dark, purple eyes like glowing amethysts. Hide was _certain_ he knew the face—but from where?

“Have we met?” she asked, shrugging off her coat over the back of her chair. “You seem _really_ familiar.”

Her voice resonated in his brain, but Hide _couldn’t fucking place it._ Where had he met her before?

“You keep us here for _two hours,_ and then you won’t even apologise?” Nishio looked _pissed._ Hide wanted to shrink away, but instead painted on a smile and started.

“Now, now, Nishio, that isn’t—”

“My shift went overtime! Fight me!” Touka snapped angrily, glaring at him. “ _Some of us_ have jobs, hobo.”

“Excuse me? What, did you think that was a good enough excuse to leave us here? I have work, you know. I actually have prospects and commitments, unlike your little gang.”

Touka bristled, snarling at him angrily. “What would _you_ know? Okay, fine, I’m _sorry,_ wow. Don’t get your boxers in a knot.”

Nishio looked like he could have gone for more, but let it slide, biting his tongue. “This is Touka,” he said, fuming. He didn’t look at Hide, instead staring into his drink as he prepared to chug the thing. “She’s a bitch.”

“Nice one, Four Eyes. Did you practice that on Kimi?”

Nishio lunged, but Touka swung back on her chair legs, out of his reach. She grinned, almost savagely.

It was weirdly beautiful.

She laughed, giving the waiter a pat on the arm when he delivered her coffee. She ignored Nishio, turning now to Hide as she sipped the foam off her beverage. The tension on the moment broke fast enough for a match to have lit when her eyes turned cold, boring into him.

“What’s your name?”

There was no warmth in that voice. Crystal eyes turned sharp and deadly, ready to pierce him. Hide felt the weight of his phone in his pocket. There was no way she was coming here to ask about the Creative Writing Course.

“Nagachika Hideyoshi, but you can call me Hide.” Smile. Play dumb. He couldn’t let them think he was a danger, or he could be killed. Shit, he wished he was holding his phone. Like this, he couldn’t get help.

But, like this, they also couldn’t make a scene.

“So, _Hide,”_ her voice lilted over his name, like thick poison, being dripped into his victim. In this case, Hide. “Are you sure we’ve never met?” Her eyes were sharp and intelligent. But behind them . . . glowing behind the dark depths of her eyes, he could feel the anger from here. Rage, deep in her soul. She must have detested Hide, but why?

“I feel the déjà vu too, but I honestly have no idea.” His voice was light and bubbly. He felt sick. He felt _sick._ “Maybe we were once lovers in a past life.” He forced cheekiness onto his face, in the way he grinned lopsidedly. Touka smirked but gave no indication of further amusement. Hide knew he was in danger. He was in a _lot_ of danger.

“Anyhow, I asked Nishio here for you to tell me about Kamii’s Creative Writing course,” she said, sipping from her coffee. The steam blew into her face. The statement was not a mere conversation starter, though, it was an order. For him. To start talking.

“Yeah, he said that!” Hide’s face ached. Everything was so, so fake and he was terrified to drop the act. “It’s not a bad course, but I’d probably enjoy it more if, like, I actually liked Creative Writing.”

“You don’t like creative writing?” Touka asked, thin brows raised in question. There was no innocence to her confusion, though. Her eyes remained on him, watching every twitch in his face. Analysing him, watching for anything that he could be killed over. Shit, he was _so fucked._ “I would have thought you couldn’t help yourself, being fluoro orange in a city like this.”

Hide laughed. It felt strained; pushing against the top of his lungs like had no air in them. “I actually did it because my mother loves writing,” he admitted. Instantly, he regretted the choice. If Touka knew he had a mother, she had something to threaten him with. Shit, shit, shit. “But the professor is really good. He’s like, super into the ‘get along with everyone’ vibe, so we do a lot of peer-editing. It’s actually really helpful.”

“That’s nice,” Touka said, pulling her lips into a smile. Hide studied the way the gloss had been perfectly applied, completely smooth as it reflected the light in the room, the soft blush of pink applied only to the centre of the lips. Makeup had been perfectly done all over her face, in fact, from the tip of her eyelashes to where the skin of her neck disappeared into her collar, everything was smooth and finished. He swallowed. He began to feel like he was being suffocated by her presence, by the weight of the danger.

Nishio had led him to this.

Who was Nishio, then?

“Do you have any friends in your class, Hide?” Touka asked, leaning heavily onto her hand. Her nails had been perfectly manicured as well, painted in that shiny beige colour, each cuticle the perfect horseshoe shape around oval nails. It reminded him of Rize.

Rize, who had been in the club that night.

The club, where he had danced for too long, meeting and parting with people, meeting and parting with Kaneki.

Yoriko, that was the name of the girl he’d met. She’d taken him to her table, where he’d met—

That’s where he had met Touka.

“Yeah, I actually sit with a friend of mine, Takashi,” he said easily. Now wasn’t a good time to broach the subject of past meetings. “I used to sit with another one of my friends, but he’s been ill lately and hasn’t been able to come.” Lies. So many lies.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” said Touka. Sincerity coated her words like nail polish; perfect and flawless, but Hide knew well enough that there was a nail underneath that, and even lower tissues filled with intricate lies and nerves that were waiting to be set off like a bomb. A perfect cover, but Hide knew it was fake. “I hope he gets better soon.”

He wondered if she knew his façade was fake as well.

“Me too,” he said, smiling politely. “But it’s a really good course, so—”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

Her voice betrayed nothing, but from the way her hands reached out too quickly for her drink again betrayed her eagerness. She was impatient. Impulsive.

Powerful.

“Haise,” Hide said, unwilling to give out Kaneki’s full persona name. Who was Touka? Who was Nishio? He remembered the day Nishio had come home, disturbed by Haise’s presence. Why? Were they enemies of Kaneki Ken? Did they suspect Sasaki Haise of a crime? Did they know that Sasaki was dangerous?

Or were they his friends?

Kaneki wouldn’t send friends to kill him, would they?

“Oh, yeah?” Touka said into her cup as she lowered it, dark eyes staring past its rim into the wall beyond. Hide waited for her to say something else, but they drifted into silence. He watched her place her cup down into the saucer neatly.

“Hide,” Nishio said, his deeper voice jolting Hide, “could you put your phone on the table, please?”

Hide was tempted to say he’d forgotten it, but he knew Nishio had been there whilst he checked his texts. Slowly, Hide complied, placing the item on the table close to him. They didn’t voice any disagreements, so he guessed it was good enough.

“Wow, what is this? James Bond? Am I actually being drafted into the Secret Service?” Hide joked, laughing nervously. He hoped they couldn’t tell how hard his heart was pumping, how on end his nerves were. It was starting to feel the same as the night he had followed Kaneki on that _stupid_ decision of his that he still regretted. If he hadn’t gone, maybe things would have been different to the situation he was in right now. He’d much rather be plagued by curiosity than have a gun held to his head, like now.

“Have you known Haise long, Hide?” Haise’s name came fluently from her lips, like she was used to saying it. Her dark eyes glinted as she eyed him up and down, focusing on the way his elbow rested on the table, his hand laying calmly and still. Under the table, his other hand was clenched to stop it from shaking. They were connected to Kaneki, he was sure. But how?

“I met him at the start of the year,” he said, shrugging. “We had to be partners for some peer-edits we did. He was a pretty cool guy so I hung around with him. Why do you ask?”

Touka shrugged, fine shoulders shifting the fabric of her dress shirt. “Just curious. Do you go to parties or anything? Like, is that big at Kamii?”

She played the role well, the innocent student. Hide hoped he played his just as well. Stick with it, get out, lock yourself in the room. Barricade the door. He was certain now that Nishio was a threat to his safety.

“I go to parties _way_ too much,” he laughed, “but most of them are external. Everyone is so serious at Kamii, it hurts me inside. Haise was just the same. I had to _beg_ him to come and see a movie with me.”

He wasn’t sure if saying that was a bad idea. What would save him: less connections or more connections to Haise Sasaki—or rather, to Kaneki Ken?

“Nice,” Touka said, her thin smile back. “What movie?”

“ _The Conjuring,_ ” Hide said. “It was _such_ a bad move! I’m absolute shit with horror movies. I legit crapped my pants.”

“Oh, that’s so bad.” Her words would have felt more honest if she was looking him in the eye. No, she’d been typing on her phone. She gave him a sideways look and slid it across the table’s surface:

_How much do you know about Sasaki Haise? Don’t answer out loud. Use your phone._

When he’d read it, she pulled the phone back. “Are you just terrified of ghosts?” the question—or rather, the distaste—was clear in her eyes. She thought little of him, being afraid of ghosts, like he didn’t know Kaneki was so obsessed with them.

So maybe she _did_ know Kaneki.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Well, not so much, it’s just the whole movie experience, where they aim to get you caught out.”

_He doesn’t actually wear glasses, does he?_

He passed the phone to Touka, sliding it along the table the way she had. She read the message quickly, body language tensing. Not even she, with her smooth edges and perfect cover up could hide her discomfort. She’d understood what he was saying.

Kaneki Ken didn’t wear glasses.

Touka put down her phone. “What does he mean to you?” she whispered, eyes sharp and distrustful.

He wanted to wilt away and escape.

“He’s a friend,” Hide replied softly. “I . . .” _we held hands at a movie and Kaneki is a really good kisser, even when I was high. He also killed a guy and seemed fine with it. That was really_ not _fun, to be honest._

“I care about him,” Hide admitted, “and I worry about him.”

Touka exhaled, turning off her phone. “Fucking hell. You’re lying through your teeth about stuff, but I can’t tell if you’re lying about this.”

So she _had_ seen through him.

“Listen here, _Hide,_ ‘Sasaki’ trusts people _too_ easily. A lot of people have exploited him and hurt him because of it. What makes you think that I believe your intentions are good?”

Friends. Touka was his _friend._

By the anger in her eyes, the provocation to defend, he saw it. She cared about him fiercely, and it made her dangerous. She was in the same league as Kaneki in that regard; she could act as well.

“I can’t prove it,” Hide said, staring at his phone. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but the sick feeling stayed in his gut. “I can’t prove anything.”

“Hide,” Nishio spoke up, “what you know about him has to be kept secret.”

“Yes,” Touka agreed. “That’s why you’re going to tell us what _you_ know about him, and we’ll tell you what we know about you. I’m sure you’ve realised by now that at this table, you’re surrounded by wolves, and you’re a snack dressed in glowing orange.”

Hide really fucking hated himself.

He swallowed hard, yet again. What would he tell them? That he’d pieced together strings and theories and decided one day to follow through and find out the truth so he could feel better about denying the unethical _attraction_ he had to Kaneki Ken? That he’d watched Kaneki tear someone’s tongue out and kill them? That Kaneki had faced him and told him to leave?

“I work for the CCG,” Hide said slowly. The words were deceptively heavy on his tongue, like a weight wrapped in velvet. They were hard to say despite the softness of his voice. “I can access a lot of data through there.”

“Don’t lie,” Touka said evenly, just as soft. “We know the CCG doesn’t know a lot.”

“No, they don’t,” Hide agreed. “That’s why I started my own investigating.”

* * *

 

_“Hello, my name is Professor Kanou. I’m looking for some test subjects.”_

_That was the first time Kaneki ever heard his voice. It pierced through the ringing in his ears, glorified by the memory. At the time, Kaneki wasn’t hearing much of anything. It was all cotton in his ears, all water in his eyes. Nothing would work, and everything hurt. He dimly remembered how badly they’d beaten him up for trying to escape._

_He would die on that gurney, and he was surprised with how comfortable he was at the thought._

_His consciousness came in snatches. He remembered seeing two dark shapes above him, indistinct in the loose fluids in his eyes, unable to properly blink them away. They hovered above him, buzzing around. He felt them touch his face, his chest, lift up each of his leaden limbs and inspect every inch of him, like he was an item. A good. A purchase._

_A_ thing.

_“ . . . Type AB? I’ll take him.”_

_He remembered the masculine, aged sounding voice. The voice of a doctor. Stupidly, so stupidly, he had hoped and believed that maybe he was being saved. Maybe the doctor was here to help him. Please, let everything stop hurting him._

_Oh, how wrong he had been._

_His next view was clearer. His eyes were healing, and he stared up at a white, fluorescent ceiling high above. It was clean and well-lit. he could feel the whispers of air conditioning on the bare skin of his limbs. He was wearing one of those terrible hospital gowns again, but it was clean. His front was no longer stuck to it with blood. He wriggled his toes. Had the doctor helped him? Was the man going to help him?_

_“You’ve healed well, Kaneki.”_

_It was the same doctor voice. Kanou. Kanou was his name. Kaneki painstakingly lifted his head to see the man: tall, garbed in white with a head of grey hair. His face was aged slightly. He seemed okay. He seemed safe. Somewhere, Kaneki was reminded of the kind manager._

_Kaneki let his head fall, muscles aching. He heard Kanou approach. “How are you feeling?_

_“I’m . . .” Kaneki’s throat burned. He tried to reach up and grab it, but he realised that his wrists had been shackled to the sides of the gurney. The cold metal bit into his flesh. He felt it, now, the icy metallic touch against the back of his calves, against each knob of vertebrae in his spine._

_Take the man from Hell._

_But not Hell from the man._

_“Where am I?”_

_Kanou smiled, appearing in his field of vision. “I’m going to make you a god, Kaneki. Just you wait.”_

* * *

 

Touka had been silent for a long moment after Hide finished describing what had made him suspicious. Her eyes were narrowed, and she stared angrily ahead.

“I told you,” Nishio said indignantly. “Too smart for his own good.”

Hide could have laughed if he didn’t feel like he was being crushed. There was no use in keeping up the Happy Hide routine now.

“So, what sealed the deal?”

“What?” Hide said it on instinct, but he already felt the discomfort brewing. He’d done his best, for the sake of his own mental health, to try and forget about what happened. He didn’t trust himself to go someone to get therapy about the incident, because that would inevitably lead back to Kaneki, and that was the whole dilemma. Why did Hide want to protect him?

Touka’s eyes were on him again, watching him like a cat watches a mouse escape; resigned fury.

“How did you prove it?”

Her voice was deceptively calm.

“Oh,” Hide said. Now was the trouble. He scratched at his cheek, smiling nervously. “Do I really—”

Touka kicked him under the table. Hard. Her shoes had pointed toes, and they fucking hurt when they dug into his shin. Hide winced. He did _not_ want to be here. This hadn’t been a smart move on his part at all. Touka may have had intentions to care about Kaneki, but Hide was sure that she didn’t trust him.

“Don’t waste my time,” Touka growled. “You won’t have a place in any of this if the death of a single person unnerves you so much.”

Hide’s shaking stopped. Touka was right. Piercingly right, and it hurt.

He’d tried his best to try and convince himself otherwise, but he knew it was true: if, for whatever reason he decided to try and pursue it, this thing with Kaneki, how on earth would it work? It wouldn’t.

Hide knew it wouldn’t.

Slowly, he scratched at his cheek, saying, “I, uh, followed him. It was by accident, I was trying to give his money back, but I ended up seeing him take off the disguise.”

“Oh,” said Touka.

_Oh._

“That’s it?” Touka’s moment was passed, and light was back in her eyes. “You let him think he was a piece of shit because of _that_?”

“What do you mean?”

Touka clenched her teeth, taking a second to compose herself. “You’re a fucking dodgy guy, you know that? Snooping around Kaneki’s back—”

“ _Touka,”_ Nishio said darkly. “Calm down.”

Touka looked like she could have hit someone, very suddenly. The anger that had been kindling in her features was alight, and Hide could feel himself being burnt by it.

“What next?” she asked. Her composure was wearing thin as time went on. “You followed him. Great. _Fucking_ great. So what then? What did he do that would make you run away like little bitch?”

Hide wanted to flinch away at her words, but they were things he’d all thought to himself long before. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. He had to relieve the memory, as fucked as it had been. His mouth felt dry as he spoke.

“He was . . . there was this guy, and . . .”

_Hide watched as Kaneki pressed his lips against the other man’s. It could have been a movement of love, of passion in that violent, open-mouthed way. Hide didn’t even see the way Kaneki’s jaw clamped shut until he jerked his head away, blood spraying as he held the man’s severed tongue between his teeth._

“He, um . . .” Hide prodded at his cheek, unable to form a coherent sentence. “He got the guy’s tongue, and—”

Touka’s patience wavered. “Speak properly!” she hissed. “You’re not helping anyone by being weak.”

Hide took a deep breath.

“I watched him bite a guy’s tongue out. Then he slit the guy’s throat and stuffed the tongue in. Why? Because someone asked him. Was it hard for him? No. No, it wasn’t.”

Touka grabbed him by the collar, glaring at him angrily. He could see the angry curses on her tongue as she opened her mouth to yell at him.

“ _Touka.”_

“Fuck!” Touka tossed him back into his chair. Angrily she crossed her arms, spitting flames. “You—fuck you, _Hide._ Fuck you.”

“Touka, keep your voice down.”

“Shut it, Nishio! You thought he was a nice guy!”

Nishio’s eyes narrowed. “Your opinion may be different, but he’s done nothing wrong. Don’t go beating up dumb kids because of it.”

Touka bit her lip. “Fine, be that way. What did Kaneki even see in you?”

Selfishly, naively, Hide felt defensive. What had he done wrong? Sure, he’d invaded the guy’s privacy, but what had he said that was so wrong? What had set Touka off?

It was like she had a meter for annoying internal monologues.

“You could _never_ understand Kaneki,” she said angrily, coercing her anger into a single, flowing tone. “ _Never._ Do you think everything is so black and white? You think Sasaki is this cute, sensitive guy and then Kaneki is a senseless, violent killer? Have you even heard yourself? Oh, wait—don’t tell me, you looked for a psychological reason. Did you get to Marie Antoinette too?”

Hide felt his blood running cold. Every single word she was saying hit the mark. His sickness changed into a sinking, heavy shame. God, she was so right. When had he become so stupid?

Touka shook her head. Her anger had been reined in, replaced by disappointment in a single breath. “You people. Did you think Kaneki enjoyed that? Do you think he enjoys the life he’s living? For whatever reason, your role in Sasaki’s life made him happy, but honestly? You make me sick. All I can sense from you is having a loving, comfortable family. Have you even had a broken heart, Hide?”

“Touka, calm down.”

“And _you,_ shithead!” she whirled to Nishio. “You should understand what we’re living. How do you—what do you _see_ in this guy?”

“Hide is not a _bad person,_ Touka. Calm the fuck down. You’re being childish.”

The words sent a jolt through her, and she grew quiet. She chewed on her lips, staring into her lap. “You know, I really had high hopes for you, Hide. I haven’t seen Kaneki that good in a long fucking time, but you’re honestly pretty disappointing. I’m not trying to be _nice,_ so don’t look for it. You must like the quiet bookworm type. Yeah, Sasaki’s the one for you. Aren’t they so easy to _break?_ ”

“Touka!”

“Save it, Nishio,” she snapped. She pulled a small envelope from her pocket and slammed it on the table in front of Hide. “This is for you. I brought it in the hope you were worth it, but no. You need to _understand._ Not everyone can choose where they end up. Not everyone is born into a house filled with love. Not everyone has two parents. You’re smart, I get that. Kamii likes it. The CCG likes it. You’re just like them, y’know? _Just_ like them.”

Hide couldn’t speak. He didn’t have the nerve to open his mouth and talk back. All he could do was feel ashamed of himself. Had he really been that pathetic?

Touka stood and pulled on her coat. “Kaneki is no hero. Kaneki may not even be a very good person, but _fuck you_ if you think you’re in a position to judge him.”

“Stop being so moody,” Nishio sighed. “Just sit down, Touka.”

“I’m done,” she said. Standing, she fixed her hair and shook out her hands. “It’s fine.”

She was the image of collectedness once more.

“Kaneki spent a long time wondering if he should send you a text,” Touka told him, staring down at him. Hide felt dwarfed by her immense presence. “He did. And he sent it. You know what the worst part is? I told him to. I told him to follow this chance. God, I wish I’d known.”

Hide stared at his hands. She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t lying. _She wasn’t lying._

“It’s Kaneki’s choice. He valued you enough to leave your life despite it being a source of happiness. He told you to leave. Do you want to know something, Hide? Kaneki hates it. He _hates_ being alone, but he’d do it for you. I just—argh, fuck. Fuck it all. I’m going home. See ya, Nishi-shit. Sorry for _wasting your time.”_

And just like that, Hide watched Hurricane Touka disappear.

“Damn,” said Nishio, “she didn’t even pay for the cappuccino.”

Hide didn’t have the heart to say anything. He felt like Touka had gutted him down the middle and taken out everything that he’d thought he had to be proud of.

“Hey. Don’t look so glum. Touka’s pretty harsh.”

“Comforting sounds pretty weird from you, Nishio.” Even now, he’d tried to keep up his act. Maybe it would have been convincing if his words weren’t hollow.

“I’m stating facts. Touka is . . . she owes a lot to Kaneki. All of us do. Touka is just . . . overly compassionate. Violently, even.”

“She was right.”

Nishio didn't offer any more comfort. “I’m heading home,” he said, leaving a note on the table. “You have a key, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Hide said, draping himself over the back of his chair. He felt his spine click into place. “I have one.”

Nishio didn’t look impressed. “Well, don’t die on the way home.”

Hide didn’t even register he’d left. He felt so ashamed of himself, and so _guilty._ Touka _had_ been right, right about everything. What could Hide ever have to offer Kaneki when he had someone that cared so much about him? God, he was such an idiot.

Kaneki and Sasaki weren’t different people, and he had to accept that. He had to.

“I guess the question is which one is the real version of Kaneki,” he muttered to himself. Against his better judgement, he reached for the envelope and opened it, pulling out an old photo.

It showed an older man beside a younger boy with a head of black hair, smiling nervously and sadly into the camera. They were inside, in what appeared to be a café with chocolate brown walls and a counter behind them.

It took Hide a long second to realise that he was looking at Kaneki Ken.

* * *

 

“Touka? What is it?” Kaneki picked up the phone. He’d been talking to Chie Hori about organising a way to scout for more information about Kanou. He had to arrange order into this, especially after the appearance of Furuta.

“ _Fuck you, Kaneki,”_ she grumbled into the phone. “ _Fuck you.”_

“What did I do?” He turned to the window of his room, looking up from his notebook. He’d finished today’s entry, after all.

 _“It’s nothing,”_ she sighed. _“I just . . . no, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. Have you eaten today?”_

“You don’t have to mother me,” he said quietly.

_“Just tell me.”_

No, he hadn’t. “Yes,” he said. “I have.”

 _“Good.”_ Another sigh, this time one of relief. _“Is everything all right over there?”_

“Nothing’s happening, yes,” he said. “Are you okay? Do you need help? Is it—?”

“ _It’s fine.”_

Kaneki wished he could tell whether he was lying or not. He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t read between the lines, couldn’t study their quirks when they were hiding something. Over the phone, he had no choice but to believe her.

Was it always like this?

 _“_ There’s some food left,” he said. “I can heat it for you if you’re close.”

_“No, don’t bother. I think I’ll go to Yoriko’s.”_

So she wasn’t fine.

What was the best thing to do here? Kaneki supposed distance would be the best. She must not have wanted to see anyone right then.

“Okay. Stay safe.”

_“You too.”_

Kaneki hung up. What had that been about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah I hope you enjoyed that. It's a bit of a change, isn't it? having one large scene throughout the whole chapter? Phew. Got that over with. I've been planning this since the start and BOY OH BOY that was fun.  
> Poor Hide thinks he's horrible now nuuuuu  
> Thanks to everyone that read that! I really hope you enjoyed that xD


	21. Bullet Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOOOYEAH im sorry it's so late I've been busy all weekend doing shit i didn't want to
> 
> Can you believe this? I legit haven't gone on tumblr in nearly a week end me
> 
> also new chapter is out please stop this PAAAAAIAAIN
> 
> pls enjoy its a lil short but it ends well if u know what i mean

_“Please, save my brother!” the girl begged, hanging off the officer’s arm. “Please! He’s where I used to live, and my brother is in danger! You have to help him! Please!”_

_“We understand, but first we have to—”_

_She stopped listening. They weren’t going to save him. Oh, God, Touka had made such a bad mistake. He wasn’t going to be saved. She had left him. She had abandoned him._

_“I beg of you,” she whispered, “save him.”_

* * *

 

Amon ran a hand through his hair in frustration. By now, he was sure that it was a mess. He’d been in the office all night, looking through case reports. Over the past month and a half, the crime rates had been growing. All kinds of crimes from petty theft to murder. It surprised him how quickly an infection like that could infect Tokyo. The 20th ward, renowned for its safe nature, was beginning to host them. Last month, a woman had her apartment burgled. Nothing major, just technology like the television and her savings she’d stashed behind the bed.

The following week, someone was mugged violently on the street. The police, after a brief investigation, handed it to the CCG to figure out. With the new laws, any crimes that had the capacity to become violent were handed to them to solve, since their laws of conduct were more lenient than the police force’s.

This meant their cases had been steadily piling up. The 20th ward was becoming dangerous, Amon knew. Last week, a group of three men had been killed on the ward border. After a brief review, the culprit was ascertained: Kaneki Ken.

His influence was found all over the city, and Amon was becoming worried. He’d never been this prominent before. His claim to fame was the case that resulted in the death of thirty people within the space of twenty minutes at the dangerous ‘Restaurant’: a barbaric event run by members of the underground who enjoyed watching people who committed crimes against them being killed.

It was a terrifying prospect, both the Restaurant and Kaneki Ken’s strength.

They were all known and terrible criminals. Psychopaths were not clinically thought to enjoy socialising, but these ones of the Restaurant seemed to unite over watching others suffer. Usually, one person would be on the ground would be dealing the fatal blows to their entertainment. They were often humans that had been driven insane to a berserker-like level.

Thinking about it now still sent shivers down Amon’s spine.

He sighed and filed away the papers. Kaneki’s remained on his desk, wide open, showing him the updated image: a round face, large grey eyes, a small mouth, and a shock of white hair. Amon knew that the computer-generated image had its limitations, but it gave a much clearer image than their grey sketch.

The times Amon had seen him, he’d been left reeling. There was something fundamentally _different_ about him that separated him from others in his class. Amon remembered, his rookie days, running down a warehouse in the 4th ward with his gun, separated from his squad. Shinohara was going to kill him, he knew, if a gangster didn’t find him first.

He’d turned a corner and found himself standing in a puddle of blood.

_Investigators were slumped against the walls, gunshots to their bodies, cuts across their throats—all manner of ways to die that Amon struggled not to throw up thinking about. One of them had their throat sticking out of a second smile on their throat, sitting up against the wall, legs splayed, clothes sucking up the blood that coated the ground._

_He had been standing there, clothed entirely in black. White hair stood out in the dark, and his form was still as he regarded that particular fatality in front o him. Blood dripped off his hands: one empty, one holding a small knife. Amon looked for his eyes but found them hidden behind the white bangs. He’d drawn a black scarf over his nose and mouth._

_“Investigator,” he said softly, “run.”_

_Amon remembered the moment vividly: being filled with his anger, his desire to get vengeance. Colleagues, comrades and friends had been killed in that mission, and one of the reasons was standing before him. Amon raised his gun to shoot._

_Kaneki slowly turned to face him. Amon saw the streaks of blood on his face, sticking to his cheeks, leaving marks from where it had soaked into the scarf over the bottom half of his face with a depiction of a pair of bared teeth._

_Kaneki’s cold grey eyes regarded the taller man, and Amon found himself frozen in place. He’d become used to seeing the expressions of gang members, from terror to ecstasy, even a sort of nonchalance, but he had never seen the sheer emptiness before him. It wasn’t nonchalance, it wasn’t sadness, it was . . . nothing._

_He’s just a normal psycho, Amon told himself, trying to steady his hands. Just shoot._

_“Please, Investigator,” he said again, “don’t make me kill you as well.”_

_“Shut up!” he yelled. “You’re just one of them. This is . . . you should be tried for your crimes.”_

_Kaneki closed his eyes and looked down. “I know that the best,” he said. “So . . . please leave. I won’t touch you. Someone like you has things to do, right? Just go.”_

_His voice sent echoes through Amon’s head. His hands shook on the gun. This was his inexperience, he reasoned. This was his compassion. People had died. He knew the guidelines: no killing unless CCG has been killed. He was so, so angry. He_ wanted _to kill the man._

_CCG had been killed, but killing seemed so essentially wrong Amon couldn’t bring himself to do it._

_Shoot to subdue, not kill._

_“Fuck!” he yelled as he pulled the trigger, jumping from the recoil._

_He watched it sail past his target. He’d missed._

_“_ Investigator _,” Kaneki repeated, looking up. His gaze was growing dangerous. “_ Leave _.”_

_Amon fired again. It connected, hitting Kaneki in the shoulder. The smaller man staggered under the impact, but then took a step forward, straightening. Amon searched for any sign of pain on the man’s face._

_He saw none._

_“Don’t make me,” the man said quietly. “Don’t make me kill you. Please.”_

_“As if!” Amon fired again, this time hitting Kaneki in the side. He saw blood spray behind him, but the boy didn’t so much as sag under the strength of the bullet. Slowly, the boy took another step._

_“Make your choice.”_

_Why was he moving? How could he move? Why didn’t he see anything in the man’s face? No pain, no care, nothing, just the sharp glint in the eyes: The violence, the anger._

_Amon raised his gun again, arms shaking dangerously. As his finger curled around the trigger, the smaller man lunged and grabbed it from his hand. With his leg, he kicked Amon back, slamming him against the wall. Winded and disorientated, Amon watched the boy disarm the gun expertly and discard the cartridge. He dropped it to the ground._

_“Please run,” he said. “You cannot fight me, now.”_

_Rage filled Amon to the core. He stood, gripping the wall for support. He was twice the man’s size, and easily stronger. All the white-haired man could make for in speed and wit Amon could match. He would match. He would. He had people to avenge._

_He lashed out at him, who took the blow to his gut. The smaller skidded back, stumbling and falling into the blood on the ground. Amon’s hand was wet from the blood from where the boy had been shot. How was he fighting this?_

_The youth jumped up and struck back with and elbow to Amon’s face. Through the adrenaline, Amon remembered the sickening sensation of something being crushed even without the pain._

_Amon grabbed a handful of white hair and slammed him into his knee. The kid didn’t falter, grabbing the man’s white CCG-issue coat and swinging him down. Because of the lack of footing, Amon went down hard, face first._

_Pain exploded in his shoulder, and Amon cried out onto the wet ground. Stabbed. He’d been stabbed in the shoulder._

_“Fucking— you!” Amon tried to push himself up on his one good arm, but the other pushed him back down, and Amon felt his weight straddle his back. The youth pulled him up by the hair, and Amon felt something icy cold touch his throat._

_“I could kill you,” he said. “Is that what you want?”_

_Amon didn’t think the boy even felt anything._

_He could see the expanse of dead comrades, each bowed and dead. If Amon died, who would avenge him? Who would fight for him? Who? How would Amon avenge them if he died? No, he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die!_

_The boy released him. “Run away, Investigator.” He pulled the knife free of his shoulder, inciting another groan of pain. “You have things to do. You can’t die yet.”_

_Amon rolled onto his back, seeing the white-haired psycho stand above him. He couldn’t see any sincerity on his face, but he couldn’t see any misgivings either. Did the man genuinely think that?_

_Amon didn’t know the boy’s name._

_“What’s your name?” Amon demanded, struggling to sit up. “Tell me!”_

_The boy stepped away. “Kaneki.”_

_“I’m Amon!” he yelled, “and I will not forgive you for this!”_

_“Please don’t.”_

_Then, Kaneki had disappeared._

Amon struggled to explain the event to his superior Shinohara. It got harder to explain as time went on. It only got harder when he learnt that Kaneki had been involved with the death of his next superior, Kureo Mado. At the time, someone had seen him with an eye-patch and gave him the name.

It seemed a cruel twist of fate he would be assigned to the 20th ward with his past superior’s _daughter_ as his partner.

Amon rubbed at his eyes and checked his emails, re-reading the one he’d received that day:

_The 20 th ward branch will receive two new Investigators to help with the rising crime rates._

Wouldn’t that be fun?

* * *

 

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Kirishima Touka,” she told them. “My brother is—”_

_“I’m sorry, we can’t help your brother.”_

_Touka’s hands clenched at her sides. This happened every single time._

_“I understand,” she said calmly. Fuck, if she had the choice, she would_ burn _them, the useless—_

_“We’ve received a foster family application for you. They’ll be taking care of you. You’re being picked up tomorrow. Remember, if you have any problems, you can always contact us.”_

_Yeah, because they were definitely going to fix her problems._

_“What about Hinami?” she asked, worrying. “Isn’t she coming with me?”_

_“I’m sorry, Touka,” said the woman on the other side of the table. “Because she’s . . . because she’s younger, we received a lot of applications. She’s a lovely girl. She’ll be fine. You’re entitled to meet up three times a year.”_

_Touka’s heart thudded in her chest. They had lost Ayato, and now they were taking Hinami from her as well? What was this? What were they_ doing?

_“You can’t—please, she’s my only family left!”_

_The woman almost looked remorseful. Her hair was cut short, at jaw-level. Her eyes were dark and saddened by years if dealing with terrible children. “You’re not actually related, so I’m afraid that because of the numbers, we have to split you up.”_

_“This is bullshit!” Touka stood. “Don’t you dare take someone else from me! You can’t even find Ayato, fucking—don’t do this to me too!”_

_“I’m sorry, Touka,” she repeated quietly. “There’s nothing we can do.”_

_Touka could only cry._

* * *

 

“Morning, co-workers!” Hide sung, cheerful on the Saturday morning shift. From her desk, Akira gave him a sharp look. Amon nodded. The Hide alert had been lit. Now, over the next five hours of his part-time shift, they would try and figure out why he looked like the walking dead.

“Good morning, Hide,” Amon said, smiling. He’d spent all night in that goddamn office, and he was sick of it. That being said, he had bigger things to be worried about, like Nagachika Hideyoshi.

Amon, not having the chance to approach him in class as he was surrounded by all his buddies, relied on his time at the office to voice his concerns. He’d seen Hide rush in, late to class, a coffee in one hand and an energy drink in the other, scull them in one minute and then fall asleep. That wasn’t healthy behaviour. The scary thing was the way it was continuing to worsen over time.

Hide’s usually tanned face was pale. The skin around his eyes was a sharp shade of red, and the shadows under them were terrible. If Amon didn’t know better, he would have thought that Hide hadn’t slept in several days.

This would be their fifth attempt at trying to coerce the truth out of him.

“You’re not looking so well, Hide,” Seidou said. “You all right, man?”

“Never better, my guy,” Hide said, shooting him some finger-guns. He wore a cap with the numbers 01 printed onto it. “You’re just seeing my morning face. Unfortunately, I lack any _makiage_ skills to hide the death.”

“It almost looks like you haven’t slept in a while,” Akira said slowly. “You’re not involved in any illicit businesses, Hide?”

“What? No!” Hide laughed it off, waving his hand. “I literally just stayed up _all night_ doing this Criminal Psychology assignment and I’m just rather dead inside. Seriously.”

It could be true.

Or, it could be untrue.

“Well, if you say so,” Seidou shrugged. “No sleeping on the job, though.”

Hide grinned and pulled an energy drink out of his satchel. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As Hide walked past Amon’s desk, he caught the unsavoury scent of smoke. A mix of cigarette and smoke machines in small rooms was stuck to Hide, following him around like a haunting ghost. Amon wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Have you gone to a party recently, Hide?”

“Hmm?” Hide turned back to him, the small quick of his mouth ever-present. “Well, I guess . . . I mean, I _am_ a student. It would be more weird if I didn’t.”

Had Hide been . . . going to parties _too much?_ In Amon’s opinion, it seemed fairly plausible. Hide was someone always surrounded by people, and it wouldn’t surprise Amon if Hide were actually at parties all the time.

But really, would Hide deliberately party himself into exhaustion?

He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t leave his mouth. Hide was so desperate to reassure everyone, it seemed, that he was fine that Amon didn’t find the nerve to say a single thing.

Dammit, he cursed to himself. He’d fix this.

* * *

 

Saturday night was always big for Hide. As usual, he’d finished work and headed towards the bar where he and Takashi always met, a small bar not far from Kamii. It was always filled with students too shy to go to a party but keen to get hammered. Hide sat himself down and pulled out his phone to wait.

His day at the office had been like it normally was, now. Everyone seemed to be hassling him about how he looked. He was fine, wasn’t he? Sure, going to parties more often than when he’d finished High School wasn’t a good choice, but it meant he hung out with Takashi and, usually, it distracted him from anything bad he was thinking. ‘Bad’ was the umbrella that fell over Kaneki Ken, Sasaki Haise and being roasted by some girl that was so right it hurt.

He sighed, ordering a drink. He was such a terrible person, wasn’t he? He should have known better than to go looking for Kaneki Ken. He should have known better than to try and accept this. It was so far beyond him he didn’t know what to do.

The barman handed him his beer, which Hide sipped at. Soon, he’d be at a party with a friend surrounded by strangers and he’d have a great time _not_ feeling like a terrible human being. He’d just do what he’d gone with: wait. Just wait for something to happen that wasn’t terrible from Kaneki’s side, and until then he’d live his own life.

That’s what he was meant to do, right?

“Hey.”

Hide looked up, grinning. Takashi had arrived. “Hey—”

It wasn’t Takashi.

Touka, the illustrious girl who had roasted him so bad he couldn’t even sleep that night from the guilt, sat herself down at the bar. “Are you waiting for someone?” she asked him. There was none of that smooth act now. She was calm, but there was something rough about her that made Hide cautious.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “But he won’t be here for a while.”

They lapsed into silence. Hide swallowed, plucking up his courage to speak.

“That time the other day, I’m really sorry—”

“Shut up!” Touka snapped, eyes alight with anger. “Don’t you _dare_ apologise.”

Hide flinched back, falling silent. Touka looked down at the bar and rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I’m not going to apologise for what I said the other day,” she started. “I won’t ever apologise for being myself. But don’t you dare try and say it’s your fault. I was very harsh and probably unfair. I don’t know you. It was rude of me to say that, and I hope you know that.”

Hide’s ears rung. What was he hearing?

Touka glared at him, gnashing her teeth. She ordered herself a drink and pulled out her phone. “I talked about it with a friend. I was really angry at the time. I just worry a lot about Kaneki. He’s . . . look, he’s not a beautiful human being. He’s probably not a good person, but he deserves better than what he has.”

“You weren’t wrong about me. You don’t have to do this,” Hide laughed nervously. “It’s fine. I was in over my head. Kaneki probably deserves someone better than me, anyway.”

“Pah!” Touka spat. “I may not like you very much, but no one I know has the effect on Kaneki that you have. I’ve . . . I’ve decided to trust you.”

“What?”

Touka glowered at him. “I don’t want to, either, but the rumour mill is saying you’re a good guy. So, I’ll give you this.”

She passed him a piece of paper with six addresses on it. “These are where Kaneki is going tonight to deliver. He normally hangs around on the edges of parties as a bodyguard.”

“Are you . . . are you _telling_ me to go find him?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Touka sighed. “Yes! Yes, I’m telling you, a nice guy, good citizen with a loving family and good prospects, to go after this boy. I don’t know what your plans were, but ditch them.”

She received her drink, breaking eye contact. Hide couldn’t even swallow. Couldn’t she tell that he’d resigned himself to distance? Was it that hard to see?

Touka took a long sip, licking the foam off her lips. “Aren’t you underage?” he asked. “You said you’d finished school, but—”

Touka’s eyes flew to him. “So you _do_ know me.”

Hide blanched. He scratched at his cheek nervously. “Well, ah—I was in a club, and I met Yoriko, who introduced me to your friends, and—”

“That was _you!”_ Touka cried. “The arsehole that ruined my night!”

“Jeez, sorry,” Hide wilted under her gaze. “I kind of had my drink spiked.”

“ _Ugh,”_ Touka groaned. “Rize. Dammit. So you were the guy Kaneki fooled around with. _Great.”_

Some of the anger faded from Touka’s gaze. “Go find him,” she said slowly. “Then we’ll argue about everything. He doesn’t really tell us what’s going on in his life, but . . . I feel like you can heal him a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

Touka glared at him again. “Fucking hell, just go! Go, go go! Leave! Fuck it, I’ll pay for your drink. You have one night to catch him, and he moves fast. I’ll tell your friends you went home sick!”

“You don’t know who they are,” Hide protested. “And, to be frank, I’m pretty sure the ‘reunion’ won’t go that well.”

“If Kaneki insisted you leave him,” Touka said harshly, “then he cares a _lot_ about you. He’s a misguided little shit, but it’s part of his charm, I guess. Go!”

Hide grabbed the paper off the table. “Fine! I’m going!”

Every resolution he’d made crumbled. God—fucking—dammit.

“Also, Hide,” said Touka, “I hope you didn’t feel too bad about what I said. I’m an angry person, and sometimes I’m really nasty.”

She didn’t apologise, but Hide could hear it in her words. He swallowed hard. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she said. “I don’t apologise about myself, so don’t ever let anyone make you apologise about yourself. Be ugly, be privileged, or be smart. It doesn’t matter.”

_Take pride in who you are._

Hide stood. It was just like him to be swayed by pretty girls with pretty words. “I’m going,” he said. He pressed a note onto the table. “But you’re not paying for my drink.”

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh . . . does that make up for it? 
> 
> Thanks to everyone that comments, kudos and just reads the story in general. You guys are awesome and I hope you know that!


	22. Switzerland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensionnnnnn  
> ( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I have no idea what the time is where you are: GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON AND GOODNIGHT.
> 
> smooth reference wasnt it? ( get it the joke is that i legit dont even know if thats the actual line)
> 
> I hope you guys are excited for this so just go and enjoy have fun i hope u do

_She’d been working at the bar when Kaneki dragged him in. Back then, she’d been living in the apartments above Helter Skelter. Uta had managed to get her a ‘foster family’ that allowed her to live there. These foster parents were actually two people Uta made up. She’d have to gear up the place for the annual check-up, but at the stroke of good luck, she’d found a place where she was finally able to be free._

_It had been raining at the time._

_Kaneki kicked the door open, holding him in his arms. Blood had run from his hair down his face, and he carried the smaller frame of Kirishima Ayato bridal-style in his arms._

_She’d screamed and discarded her job, running up to them. She gripped Ayato’s face in her hands, seeing the way his baby face had hardened and thinned out, seeing the lines that time had put there she hadn’t been able to see. She saw the scars on his knuckles, the earrings pierced through his earlobes. His dark hair had grown long and unruly._

_He could have been a stranger._

_“Ayato,” she sobbed, leaning onto his soaking wet form. “Oh my God, Ayato!”_

_“He needs a bed,” Kaneki said. “He can have mine. I don’t think he’s injured too badly.”_

_“Yes—let’s go.” She didn’t have time to argue with him about sacrificing a bed. Ayato was_ here, _Ayato was_ safe. _Her baby brother was home after God knows how long, and she didn’t even have time to worry that he probably hated her for abandoning him all those years ago. She didn’t have time to care about that at all._

 _Abandoning his decency, Touka stripped him and used Kaneki’s clothes to dress him in. They were clean, they were new, they were something violently and starkly_ not _Aogiri’s._

_Aogiri would not touch him anymore._

* * *

 

Kaneki tossed his cigarette aside. He was travelling with Ayato and Tsukiyama. Ayato donned his half-face mask, and Tsukiyama’s crescent one was in place. Moving through the streets, Kaneki distantly observed them. Would they be fine without them? Could they work as a unit? Would Uta know not to try and get them to do his jobs?

Did he . . . actually care?

It was really bad if he didn’t, right? That was bad? Shit, was it? He didn’t know anymore. Was it bad to wish for his death? Was it wrong for him to believe he had earned it?

“The next one isn’t that far ahead,” Tsukiyama said. “Another few minutes of walking.”

“I can hear it,” Kaneki shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like a big place.”

“It’s probably indoors,” Ayato said. He was taller than Kaneki now, a sold inch of shoulders higher than his own. “But maybe that’s not the real place.”

“You never know,” Tsukiyama said. “Let’s move on.”

Around them, Tsukiyama’s act was surprisingly casual. There was no outrageous French, no yelling and flourishing. No, he seemed almost cautious as they travelled. Kaneki wondered if it had anything to do with how his house burnt down and his servants were slaughtered. Maybe it had something to do with the tattoo on his back.

Kaneki wondered if Tsukiyama hated him. He must have, right? Kaneki had taken away his chance for an education. He was bright and this was his chance to rebuild himself from the ashes the CCG had left him with. Then, Kaneki had denied him the chance.

Kaneki wondered how they could stand him, ruining their lives like that.

Was Ayato happy at his new school? Was he causing trouble? Would he ask for help? Would Ayato have preferred it Aogiri?

No, Kaneki knew. No, he wouldn’t. He belonged with his sister and with Hinami in a dodgy flat, safe from the shadows of the city.

He knew that, so why wasn’t he able to make sure that none of them had to do this?

“You’re being too thoughtful,” Ayato growled at him. “Just get the jobs done, yeah?”

So Ayato had noticed. Kaneki straightened and ironed out the folds in his thinking. He’d have all night to lie in bed awake and think toxic thoughts to himself. After all, they couldn’t hurt him, so what was problem?

What was the problem?

Nothing could hurt him anymore.

* * *

 

Hide caught the bus to the sixth ward, like every man in a hurry would. He tapped his foot urgently as the bus chugged along through Saturday night congestion, checking his phone. If Kaneki was working like Touka had said, then he wouldn’t have his other phone. Any text that Hide would send him would not be read until later, when the chance had passed.

Hide swallowed. Was this really what he wanted?

He read through their previous texts again. He . . . he really missed their chats in class. He missed it a lot. He’d been so busy trying to remove himself from the possibility of what he was getting into that he’d blocked out how much he _missed_ having Sasaki as a partner in Creative Writing, how much he _missed_ making faces of the professor at the guy and trying to get that magical laugh. He’d really missed it.

Hide wouldn’t let Kaneki ruin his life like this. It was clear Touka wanted something else for him, and Hide would follow her words. It was no use getting cold feet. He would _do_ this, and if Kaneki never wanted to see him again, then Hide would go back to what he’d been doing: he’d sit in class and sleep and drink caffeine to force his eyes open. He’d sit through boring lectures and run to Creative Writing every session in the hope that someone would occupy the desk next to him, even if they hadn’t for months.

For months and months, he would do it again. Just for one time. One more time to sit next to that guy and talk to him, to not feel like he was trying to get along with someone despite knowing the infinity of distance between them. He’d sit next to Sasaki Haise, next to Kaneki Ken, who was a monster made and maybe a monster born, carrying ghosts on his thin shoulders.

Just for one more time, Hide would do it.

He dug his hands into his new coat; a green rain jacket. Still bright, but more subdued than his bright orange ski jacket. The weather was too warm for snow, and instead rain would mist down, freezing to ice on lashes but not falling as snow. His fingertips found something rough and pliable. He pulled it out and saw the familiar photo. At the time, Touka had been enraged when she gave it to him, but now that Hide didn’t feel terrible about the whole ordeal, he looked at it again.

Kaneki’s face was rounder. Younger. His dark hair was clipped in a bowl-cut—probably done at home. Even at his more youthful appearance, there were the same shadows under his eyes, the same hollowness to the sockets of the skull. Guilt. Was Kaneki involved with drugs back then as well? Was this Kaneki _before_ his hair was white?

Maybe it _was_ Antoinette syndrome.

Kaneki was wearing a black top in the picture, and Hide could see a satchel on the chair to the right of the image. His belongings. It must have been warm at the time, because both Kaneki and the man behind him were wearing only base layers. Hardly a time for a hot coffee in the middle of a sweltering Tokyo summer, but for whatever reason, Kaneki had gone there. Did Kaneki still go there?

Hide, through instinct, doubted it.

Something about the picture was dead. The Kaneki he saw was just a memory, and he knew it. It was an immortalisation of a ghost. If Kaneki saw the picture, he’d probably discard it. The brightness in Kaneki’s eyes was long gone. There was pain in his eyes, yes, but there was life. It wasn’t an empty gaze of someone who was convinced they were nothing.

It was the face of someone who could bleed and be in pain. Someone who felt guilt. Someone who sold the lower citizens special powders and chemicals for them to destroy their insides for their own recreation. This Kaneki was dead.

Hide guessed that the older man behind him was dead too.

Who was that? Kaneki’s father? Grandfather? Uncle? Hide didn’t know. He seemed like a pretty kind guy; an aged face, eyes that crinkled and narrowed in a smile.

If it were possible, Hide would like to talk to him about it one day. He wanted to sit in the dark and exchange stupid childhood stories, like how he’d fall into mud and get trampled on by animals, and he wanted to hear Kaneki do silly, petty things that had seemed so daunting at the time. Hide’s heart sank when he began to realise that maybe neither the boy in the picture of the boy he knew now had many happy stories to share.

Hide shoved the picture away. God, progress was slow. He hit the stop button and waited anxiously for the bus to stop. They weren’t far now, right? He’d run. Traffic was too slow to be of any use. Rush hour seemed to extend for all eternity. The trains were busy, the streets were crowded, the roads in gridlock. He’d run. If Kaneki could slink his way around the city at night, quickly and undetected, then so could Hide.

He jumped off the bus and ran in the direction of the address: a club. It would be their third stop, because Hide was sure he’d missed the first two. He’d find Kaneki, and he’d talk to him. Now wasn’t the time to try and be a good boy for his mother. He’d chase after the bad guy. He’d go into the danger zone.

He’d put himself to number two instead of number one.

* * *

 

Kaneki stood in front of the door behind the bar. He watched the barmaids serve hundreds of people quickly and efficiently. Back when he’d actually worked at _Helter Skelter_ ’s counter, he’d worked the Friday, Saturday and Sunday shift. He knew how quickly things moved. That was the job Touka would be doing later tonight. From twelve in the morning to four in the morning, she’d be standing at that counter, while her brother was out delivering goods with Kaneki.

Ayato looked through his phone. He’d found a chair nearby and dragged it over, sitting himself in it. Based on the blankness of his expression, he wasn’t texting anyone or enjoying what he was really looking through. It was probably another article on visual arts. It was the one subject that Ayato seemed to enjoy.

Kaneki often wondered what it would be like to talk to him about it. Ayato going to tertiary education at all seemed like a dream. He was good at it, even if the opportunities for fine art were limited as a career.

Ayato choosing a career.

Ayato earning a respectable income.

They’d be fine if Kaneki wasn’t there, right?

Behind the door, they’d trusted the businessman Tsukiyama to take care of the deal. Kaneki was only so good at getting prices. Tsukiyama had been raised in a suit and tie to get the most out of a transaction. When he was in there, Kaneki knew he would be completely different to how he normally acted: Flirtatious, flamboyant, everything that made him hard to ignore. He’d used to be like that all the time, but Kaneki guessed he’d decided to only wear that on one shoulder and his humility on the other.

Kaneki wondered if things would be different if Tsukiyama Corporation hadn’t been discovered.

Tsukiyama opened the door. “Done. Let’s move on.”

* * *

 

They’d already left.

Hide turned on heel and ran. Where to now? What was their fourth stop? He checked: The eighteenth ward. He ran down city streets, looking for a train station. If he were lucky, he’d catch one that went straight there.

* * *

 

Kaneki ran out of cigarettes.

He stared into the empty carton. It was just like him to finish them all without noticing. Did he have a problem?

No matter. He tossed the empty cardboard into the gutter.

“What’s the plan for this one?” Kaneki said as they approached. “Who’s staying outside?”

“You can,” Ayato told him. “It’s where you want to go, right?”

Kaneki swallowed. “You can if you want. Don’t let me stop you.” Shit, what was Kaneki doing? Ayato was right: Kaneki wanted to stay outside and watch who came in and out. He wanted to be the one who had the danger of getting caught. He should have known better than to try and give Ayato the possibility of doing something so dangerous. Wasn’t Kaneki meant to look after him for Touka? Wasn’t he—?

“It’s fine,” Ayato said coolly. “Besides, your face is better known than mine around here.”

“I guess,” Kaneki said softly.

* * *

 

Hide could barely breathe. He latched onto the pole of the train carriage, chest heaving. He’d sprinted all around the ward looking for a station. Damn him and his ignorance of the city’s layout. He felt like he was about to throw up.

The fear settled in his gut, writhing and hissing with pain. No matter how bad he felt, nothing would compare to how it would feel if he _missed_ Kaneki all together.

_“Eighteenth ward stop coming up now.”_

Hide sprinted out as soon as the doors opened into a thrush of people.

* * *

 

“That went rather smoothly,” Tsukiyama noted. “Only one place left.”

“Yeah, but these guys are a pain,” Kaneki warned him. “They’ll try to get the most for the least money possible.”

“Yes, but—”

“They’re too dumb to fall for any marketing,” Kaneki told him. Memories of the place tasted sour on the back of his throat, like they did when they leaked through the barrier between Before and After. The bizarre feat of osmosis; unwanted memories crossing the semi-permeable membrane that was the brain. Memories could affect the present, After, but no knowledge of him now could ever change what had happened Before.

“Have you been here before, Kaneki?” Ayato asked. “Uta said these guys were new.”

Kaneki shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the concrete sidewalk as they progressed.

“I wonder.”

* * *

 

They weren’t there.

Not at the fourth, not at the fifth place, either. Hide was too _slow._

Shit, shit, shit! Fuck it, where were they going next? Hide scanned the paper, the ink beginning to rub off from being clenched in his sweaty palm for too long. Thank God, the next place wasn’t far. He could take a bus, but what was the point?

He’d run. Hide would keep running until he fucking rammed into the guy.

He sprinted out the door and headed in what he hoped was the general direction of their next stop.

* * *

 

Kaneki had been waiting for a while. He’d sat himself on the front steps of the small place, waiting to hear Tsukiyama’s confident business voice and Ayato’s snappy replies. Minutes stretched by, and he heard nothing. Were they all right in there?

Ten minutes ticked away.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

Something crashed behind the door and he stood. He threw open the door.

The room was filled with burly men. One of them had Ayato pinned to the wall by the throat.

He’ll die he’ll die he’ll die he’ll die _he’ll die—_

“ _Let him go,”_ Kaneki growled, closing the door behind him and reaching for the deadbolt. “Let him go, or I’ll kill you.”

Twenty red faces turned towards him angrily. Ayato struggled, but his small size and weight was nothing to these guys. They were easily Banjou’s height, if not taller and even larger. Kaneki reached for a knife.

“I said,” Kaneki repeated, glaring down everyone in the room. “ _Release him.”_

“What’s someone like you going to—” Kaneki threw the knife, seeing it fly into the man’s open mouth and cut through his throat and the back of his neck. The man stumbled and fell.

Kaneki’s eyes didn’t leave Ayato’s struggle.

Humans had weak points. Points in the body that would break. People died. Sever the brain stem, the pons, and the brain would die almost instantly. Kidneys bled out faster than the heart. Joints snapped after being stressed. Tongues bled. Throats smiled.

People died.

The man holding Ayato lowered the boy, who instantly lashed out and slammed the taller man’s head into the table. He spat the blood that had gathered in his mouth from his split lip onto the man’s disorientated body.

The Kirishima flame would never go out, it seemed.

“These guys are mine, Kaneki,” Ayato snapped. “You just _watch.”_

Maybe Ayato should have watched the outside instead.

* * *

 

When Hide arrived, he promptly turned to the gutter and threw up. He felt like a whole litre of lactic acid should have come out, but instead he was left dry retching. _Fuck,_ everything hurt. He drew himself up and hobbled towards what looked like the only door to a small concrete building. Even from Hide’s distance, several metres away, he could hear the commotion inside.

A fight. People were _fighting._

The door flew open, and a huge-looking man came flying out. He slammed into the pavement so hard Hide was sure he heard a crack in the tarmac.

Shit, Hide needed to hide.

He dashed around to the side of the building, where he once again found himself pressed against garbage cans.

“Fucking dopy _shit,_ ” yelled someone. Not Kaneki. They had a higher-pitched, younger voice, filled with rage. “Who the fuck do you think you’re taking about, ha? Who?”

Something that sounded thick and heavy. A punch. Someone was being punched.

Hide peeked around the corner and saw a skinny, black-haired kid punching the man’s face over and over again. He was screaming words, but they were unrecognisable. Unruly black hair, and anger Hide could feel from here. It was strikingly familiar.

It reminded him of Touka in some ways.

At least the boy stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He spat on the asphalt beside the man’s head. “Go fucking die, you piece of crap.”

Where Touka was all explosive righteous rage and violence, this one seemed to ooze anger and bloodlust. Hide swallowed and pressed himself back against the wall. Even if Hide hadn’t done anything ‘wrong’, he doubted he’d be safe from blind fury.

“Ayato, calm down,” said someone. “You got them all. Good. Let’s go, we’re finished.” This voice Hide knew. Although the emotions through the words were different, the particular lilt of the voice was impossible to miss: Tsukiyama Shuu.

“What about the manager?” Ayato snapped. Hide could almost hear his jaws grinding, teeth bared and bloody, like a wolf’s fanged maw. “What about that fuckwit? Where’d he go?”

“I’ll find him.”

Hide legs nearly buckled. Kaneki. Kaneki, Kaneki, Kaneki—Kaneki was _here._

“You heard him, Ayato,” Tsukiyama insisted. “Let’s go. You’ve made your point.”

“ _Fuck!”_ Ayato yelled. “Fine! Fine, god _dammit.”_

Hide watched them walk down the road. Ayato, the smaller one, had a scarf wrapped around his throat. He wore an oversized parka with a furry hood, and on his feet Hide noticed the same pair of heavy boots Kaneki wore.

He didn’t hear anything from where they had left Kaneki.

Where was Kaneki?

Hide leaned out again. Now, he could advance, right? He could find Kaneki now. He could. Before he could move he felt a hand wrap over his mouth and pull him back.

* * *

 

Kaneki rolled his shoulders. Now that Ayato and Tsukiyama were safely out of the picture, he could go about his business. Ayato had become stronger very quickly. Kaneki wasn’t sure which of them would win in a fight anymore, but he knew already who would live longer.

That was why he had tried to keep Ayato out of what would happen next.

He felt the familiar tingle on the back of his neck. He was being watched, and the only person left on the premises was the manager. Kaneki was well-versed in GLG’s policies: when the client disobeys the terms and conditions, hunt them down.

And remove them.

It was what Kaneki was best at, right after letting his head be filled with bullets for the sake of business partnerships.

The building inside was empty. The manager had escaped through a back door. Kaneki hadn’t even been aware that something like that existed, despite having been there before. The sour acid taste grew on the back of his throat. The sooner he left here, the better. The eighteenth ward was always a disappointing place on a multitude of levels. The rain misted on the tips of his eyelashes, causing him to blink quickly.

Where would the manager go? A guy of his size and ailment couldn’t travel far. Maybe it connected to a neighbouring passage, or maybe it was just a doorway into the alley system that separated the buildings.

Things were happening too fast.

“Oi, _Kaneki,”_ the manager cooed. Kaneki’s eyes snapped to where the older man was standing, further down the alley to the left of the building, behind the dumpsters. He was far taller than Kaneki, far beefier, and _much_ stronger. His right calf had been replaced by a prosthetic after being involved in a car accident. This limited his movements. Kaneki was almost surprised he’d been so stealthy about the whole act of movement.

In his right hand, he pressed a knife to someone’s throat.

In his left hand, he held Nagachika Hideyoshi against his chest by the mouth.

_Things were happening too fast._

What was Hide doing here?

“This is one of yours, right?” the manager laughed. “You don’t change, you know. Always so _desperate,_ so _weak._ ”

Kaneki tried to find his voice, tried to muster the same coolness he could threaten whole gangs and get results with.

He couldn’t.

Hide had seen him before, with blood down his face and throat and coated in the skin of _murderer_ and _monster,_ with the right about of Rize in his actions and the right amount of evil in his soul. Hide was there. Hide was _there._

_Again._

“Now, Kaneki, if you don’t give me the goods you didn’t let me have, I’ll slit this guy’s throat. It doesn’t matter to you, right? Death.”

There was the same manic glint in his eyes Kaneki had watched worsen over the years. He was addicted. Tsukiyama had taken back the package. The manager had spiralled out of control. Ayato had hears someone talking about Rabbit in a bad way and lost his shit. Things piled up and worsened _exponentially._

But why was Hide here? How?

He studied Hide’s face, numb, and saw only the brave face the blonde could muster over the fear in his features.

This should be easy: hand over what the man wants, save Hide. Kill the man afterwards.

Except, Kaneki didn’t have the goods. He hadn’t expected _Nagachika-fucking-Hideyoshi_ to show up.

“You want them, right?” Kaneki said seamlessly. “So hand him over. Hand him over, and I’ll think about it.”

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._ His heart drummed in his chest.

The man threw back his head and laughed. Hide’s eyes shone with emotions Kaneki _couldn’t read._

“Kaneki, you _child!_ He’ll die, and you’ll die too. Everything. You think some years will change you? Paint your hair a new colour and suddenly you’re a big boy?”

The man’s hands were shaking. He wanted a fix. Kaneki supposed it was true, that dealers—addicts—didn’t really care about anything. Then again, Kaneki didn’t really care about anything. He didn’t care about a lot. He didn’t care about this man, about what he wanted, about what he knew about Kaneki from Before.

But he cared about Hide.

Kaneki’s hand wrapped around the grip of the gun in his pocket. Blindly, he armed it. How would he do this? How could he do this?

Physics. Human physics. That, and bluffing. Stalling.

Human arms react a lot to the force of a bullet. How to get his arm to pull away from Hide’s throat? How to get rid of that knife?

“How is the business?” Kaneki asked. “Madam A’s. How’s hers? Does she still have her page girls and boys pay you visits?” _Like I used to. Does that woman still send kids to do her dirty work?_

The man grinned. “No. She’s disappeared. No one makes it like she used to, Kaneki. No one else will suffice.”

Kaneki wished he still had the kilos spiked with cyanide. God, he’d offer those up in a heartbeat to someone like him.

“Shame.”

Where would he aim? The leg? No, that would be futile. This man could cut Hide’s throat in an instant if he felt threatened. A leg was useless.

The shoulder? That would cause a backwards momentum that Hide would get pulled into. The hand? Too risky. He could hit Hide if his aim wasn’t good enough. The elbow? If he destroyed the joint from the right trajectory, it could case a whiplash movement away from Hide’s neck.

Kaneki hated chances.

“You’re right about the hair,” Kaneki said, almost wishing he could let _loose_ on this guy. He could have smiled.

He didn’t.

“Black didn't suit me.”

_BANG!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- tumbleweed blows across empty room ---
> 
> haha  
> hah  
> ha  
> a  
> ha  
> hav  
> have fun waiting another two days to see what happens  
> (oh my god since when was i so evil holy shite)
> 
> Thanks to everyone that took the time to read this! I really hope you enjoyed it! There are only so many ways I can express gratitude but thanks to everyone that reads this, comments or leaves kudos. You guys are amazing and I hope you know it!


	23. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hide and kaneki have some good moments. also some bad moments, but good moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> booyeah have fun i can already predict some reactions

_Why wasn’t she healing?_

_Why was she still bleeding?_

_Shit, what did Kaneki do? How did he stop the bleeding? How? His body did it on his own! How the_ fuck _did he?_

_Please, please, please, he prayed, pressing down on the wound. If there was a God, he’d forgive him for all the hell Kaneki had been dragged through if she would just_ heal!

_Blood stained the tiles, its reach growing steadily larger has her body grew colder and colder. She wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t she moving?_

_“Someone!” he screamed, “Help!”_

_It started to rain._

_No one came._

* * *

 

It was one of the many images Hide knew he would never forget.

Through some disassociation with himself, the world seemed to ingrain itself into his brain in slow motion. He remembered watching Kaneki’s gaze dart up, remembered watching each individual white hair rise and fall as in the same space of time Kaneki revealed a gun in his pocket and shot.

Hide remembered the way the blood burned against his icy skin, remembered the touch of air on his throat as the knife was removed. He remembered the way the arm had bent away at the unnatural angle, blood flying in globules, scattering across the walls, the ground, Hide’s clothes, Kaneki’s clothes.

His mouth was released, and Hide sucked in a gasp of air.

Something grabbed the front of shirt and pulled him back into reality roughly.

The force of his step sent every synapse surging through his brain, and Hide’s senses clicked into gear. His ears rung painfully from the sound of the gunshot. His mouth tasted iron. All around him was the scent of blood. Blood and desperation and bullets.

There was so much blood.

“Don’t look,” he heard Kaneki whisper as the other pressed the back of his head down into his shoulder. Hide, too stunned to respond, could only wince as he heard the second bullet fly, exceptionally louder than the first.

The echo seemed to last for an eternity. Nothing stirred. Nothing breathed. Nothing bled.

As it cleared, the rain came down in a storm. A roaring, constant white noise of thousands of droplets hitting the ground. Icy cold water ran down the back of Hide’s neck, but he didn’t move.

Hide had nearly died.

Someone else had died.

Kaneki had killed him. _Again._

Hide straightened himself up. He had to be sane, here. He had to be rational. He’d come here with the goal of finding Kaneki, and he had. He’d come all this way, convincing himself that even one last conversation was enough.

The downpour had plastered Kaneki’s hair to his face, obscuring his eyes. Blood that had sprayed onto his chin was being washed away. His jacket was soaked through. Hide deliberately didn’t look back and see what was behind them.

Happy Hide, he told himself. Happy Hide.

“That was, uh . . . an adventure,” Hide said, squeezing out a chuckle. He felt like he was suffocating. “Yo, I guess.”

Kaneki disarmed his gun and put it into his pocket. “You should leave, Hide. It’s not safe.”

His voice seemed emptier than the alley they stood in.

Hide swallowed. “That’s no way to treat a buddy, right? Let’s, uh . . . I dunno. Let’s head back. We can chat, if the train isn’t too full, we can—”

Kaneki swayed to the right, tipping his head to his shoulder. Hide saw the way his eyes stared down to the body Hide knew was behind him but knew even more deeply that he shouldn’t look for the sake of his own sanity.

Kaneki’s eyes were heavy. The skin around them darkly discoloured and damaged from what could have been a lifetime of bad sleeping habits. White lashes bowed under the weight of raindrops.

Kaneki’s gaze turned to him, and the man straightened. “We should leave,” he said, stronger this time. “Now.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Hide started to say, but Kaneki walked off without him. Hide’s actions felt horribly slow, as if he were moving through honey. Every limb was painfully lethargic, and he struggled to catch up to the quick-footed Kaneki.

Rain was pelting down, and Hide pulled up the hood of his raincoat. Be calm, he told himself. Calm, calm, calm. What use would there be, panicking? Who would he confide in? No, rationale came first, and his intelligence was telling him to follow Kaneki and get the fuck out of there. The more distance between him and what had happened, the better. Maybe he could write it off as a bad dream. Maybe he could pretend that it hadn’t happened.

No, he scolded himself, it had happened.

Despite the heavy rainfall, the night was surprisingly still. From where they were, the roads were empty. Hide forced himself forward, catching up with Kaneki, who looked as distant as Hide felt.

Hide swallowed. Conversation was good. Conversation kept people sane. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would form. Not a single sentence of small talk would grace his lips because as soon as he thought of what he wanted to say it was replaced with the desire to scream. He clenched his jaw tightly.

No screaming.

“I’m sorry,” Kaneki said as they walked. “It’s all my fuck-up. I’m sorry.”

“Whoa, man, that’s—”

“I’m so sorry,” Kaneki repeated. “You shouldn’t have been involved. You should have . . .”

“Listen to me.” Hide stopped, surprisingly firm and completely fine with being pelted down on by the rain as Kaneki slowly turned towards him.

Hide felt his heart sink.

From here, he could see Kaneki’s left side running with red that the rain washed out. A small bloody puddle formed where he stood before the rain could carry it away down the drainage. A steady drop of ruby red blood dripped from the tips of his fingers, and Hide saw the tear in Kaneki’s sleeve.

He’d been hit.

“You’re hurt,” Hide said. “Do you need help? I can—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s a gunshot wound, Kaneki. That’s—”

“Don’t . . . don’t call me that,” Kaneki said quietly. It was so quiet Hide thought it could have been drowned out. “Don’t call me Kaneki. Shit, this is all my fault. I’m—I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll see you back where you’re safe, and then you stay away from all of _this.”_

When Kaneki’s hair finally parted and Hide saw his eyes, he didn’t know what to think. They were glowing with expressions Hide couldn’t make out. So angry, so desperate, so _pained,_ so . . . so much of everything and Hide couldn’t see all of it. Wide and aged with despair, Kaneki’s eyes stared back at him.

Was this better than emptiness?

Kaneki froze for a second before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away, hunching against the cold and wet.

After a beat, Hide followed after him.

They walked down the middle of the road almost without care. Hide watched Kaneki take out his phone and start going through it. He called someone, and Hide heard him say ‘I’ll be late’. So Kaneki already had planned to go back to whatever he’d been doing for god knows how long before this, because clearly Hide meant nothing to him.

He meant nothing to Kaneki.

_Look after number one._

Hide had fucked up real bad.

“Hey,” Hide started quietly, “don’t you have a home to go back to?”

Kaneki didn’t answer. From where they were now, Hide could see the ward station in the distance. Kaneki slowed to a stop, staring at the screen of his phone. Hide clenched his fists. He was so, so, so angry.

So irrationally angry.

He wanted to scream, shout, smash glass. He didn’t care. He had to do something to let out everything that was chaotic in his brain. This was too much. Too much had happened.

Just for one time, he wanted to see Kaneki laugh again.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Hide asked quietly. “You should go home as well.”

Kaneki put the phone away. He was still silent. Hide clenched and unclenched his hands.

“You know, Kaneki, at the CCG, where I work, they have all these funky nicknames for you. They even call you Binge Eater sometimes.”

Kaneki didn’t respond. Hide stared at his back, the slim form buried under layers of muscle and tissue, skin and clothes. The idea of Kaneki Ken seemed so huge, but the person seemed far too small.

“That sounds like the CCG for you.” Kaneki said sourly. “So fucking typical of you guys.”

What?

Kaneki whirled around, biting his lip angrily. The downpour didn’t let up, but suddenly nothing seemed as loud as the words coming from Kaneki’s mouth.

“Hide, why would you hang around with someone like Haise?” Kaneki tilted his head back, looking down on Hide sharply. Hide’s heart thrummed in his chest. What was Kaneki saying?

“Is it because you wanted to break him? That’s what everyone wants to do, don’t feel bad. It’s not like the weak deserve to be unbroken, anyway!”

Kaneki was shouting, and Hide felt like his lungs were being cut up.

“It’s fine, Hide. I get it. You liked Haise. You know, I like Haise too. But Haise doesn’t _exist,_ Hide. Understand that. You can do that, can’t you? Or is it beyond your narrow comprehension?”

In Kaneki’s eyes, Hide could only see cruelty. The sound of the rain was gone, and now Hide was left reeling from Kaneki’s words, thousands of time more deafening than any gunshot. They hurt thousands of more times that Touka’s outburst, and Hide _couldn’t_ understand.

What was Kaneki saying?

Kaneki’s posture was relaxed, eyes glinting with rage. His eyes were the same silver steel of knife blades, pressed against Hide’s throat and drawing blood. Hide was bleeding. Kaneki’s words were killing him.

“You know, I kind of hate you,” Kaneki said, laughter bubbling in his throat. It was sour and bitter and everything wrong in the world. It wasn’t Kaneki. It wasn’t Kaneki. He couldn’t laugh like that. It wasn’t right.

It was deafening.

“I hate it. Everything. I hate this world, I hate its rules, I hate its logic, I hate all the people—I hate myself! Everything should burn and be razed to the fucking ground, you know that, Hide?”

_I hate you._

“I don’t want you in my life,” Kaneki said in his deadly calm, simmering voice. “Get the fuck out of it. All you do is attract my ghosts, and I have no use for you. Get out, or I swear to God I will _make_ you.”

Kaneki tossed a knife at his feet.

“You’re pretty pathetic, you know?” Kaneki’s mouth was stretched into a grin that Hide never wanted to see. It was manic, and it was _cruel._ It was the grin of someone who shot and killed and bit people’s tongues out. Surely, that wasn’t Kaneki, right?

Right?

“Pick up that knife, and when you feel sad about this, think of how many of those I have.” Kaneki was smirking, eyes narrowed and glinting. “You’re a real bother, you know? What, did you think I liked you? All those times you screamed over fences your petty love confessions—did you think I cared?”

Kaneki grinned, toothy and savage.

“Did you?”

“Hey, now,” Hide started, voice shaking. “That’s not—”

“Quit it,” Kaneki snapped. “You’re just like them, you know? The rest of them. The whole human fucking race. You’re always going in with goals, always aiming to do things, like the whole ‘ _one last time’_ business.”

Kaneki had seen right through him, hadn’t he?

“Did you think someone like me has the capacity to feel affection?” Kaneki howled with that same bitter, manic laughter. “Me? Oh, that’s hilarious. So fucking hilarious, you know?”

_Don’t,_ Hide wanted to say, _don’t do this._

He couldn’t.

“It’s simple, really: I’m just the average, brutal, messed-up monster serial killer, and you’re the bright student with a problem.” Kaneki’s was piercingly sharp, cutting through Hide’s very being. “I really hate you, yeah? I really do.”

Hide couldn’t move. His throat stung as he watched Kaneki sway unsteadily on his feet, holding his face in laughter.

“Me, having feelings? For you? Don’t make me laugh!”

_Everyone betrays you at some point._

“You go and do your little ‘waiting game’, Hide,” Kaneki said, calming down. His voice simmered with anger. “You wait and wait, because that seat will _never_ be filled again.”

Kaneki stared him down. Hide, despite his taller height, had never felt smaller in his whole life.

“You’ll always be alone, Hide,” Kaneki said. “So hate me. Come on, hate me. It’s not hard; I hate you. Go and ruin your life with your parties, go and run yourself dry with subjects you hate. Go on, what are you waiting for?”

Kaneki Ken hated him.

“I always hated you,” Kaneki said easily. “So cheerful. So fake. When I saw you at that party, you know what I thought?”

No. No, Hide didn’t want to hear this at all.

“Stop—”

“I thought, ‘boy, this guy looks pathetic, maybe I should make him feel better.’”

Hide shook. He couldn’t. No, Kaneki—he wouldn’t, right? Surely, that wasn’t what happened. Was that night in the club, that night at the party, all those months at class—was that all just Kaneki acting?

Had Hide really not noticed?

No. No, he would have. He _so_ would have, right? He prided himself on it! He was good at it! There was no way . . .

“Take that little memento of your mistake and get the fuck away from me,” Kaneki growled. “You will never have a place in my life.”

Hide watched Kaneki turn. Hide watched him stalk away. Hide watched him drift farther and farther away but no matter how much he reached, Kaneki wasn’t his to grab.

It rained.

* * *

 

Kaneki ducked into the first alley he was certain no one saw him enter. He was breathing hard. He slumped against the wall. The back of his throat stung weirdly. His head pounded. Shit, what was wrong?

He let himself slide to the ground, staring into the falling rain. He was slow. He was heavy. That familiar sensation, so long known and recently forgotten had settled into his limbs again and reminded him that every action his life dragged on through was increasingly horrible.

Kaneki hit the back of his head against the wall, as if he could use the bricks to beat the thought out of his skull. Again, and again. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He couldn’t help but see those warm brown eyes drain of all colour and feeling as he spoke. They grew farther and farther away the harder he pushed.

In, out. Breathe.

In, out. Lungs moved.

In, out. Heart beat.

Heavily, he dragged the phone from his pocket. The text message was still showing on the screen. Shit. He’d been played. He’d been played and his own foolishness was to blame. Fuck, why even bother? All he was doing was causing trouble for everyone. All he was doing was hurting and pushing again and again for all the wrong reasons.

23:57 Unknown: _And so the sun died and the world plunged into darkness, where all of its creatures belonged._

For Kaneki, there was no questioning it.

He’d put Hide in danger. It was all his fault, all over again. No matter how many times he tried, the same things happened. No more. No more, no more.

No more.

Hide would never love him. Kaneki didn’t deserve anything from that boy. Kaneki didn’t deserve anything good, period.

All he could do was live while he lost.

He clutched at his hair. “Shit,” he whispered. “ _Shit._ ”

It had been a while since he’d lost his composure like this. Everything in his head was screaming out and laughing at every mistake he’d ever made in his life, and how he was going to keep making them for all eternity, because he already knew it: he’d never die.

Cursed to live forever.

To keep Hide out of the destructive force of his life, he had to make sure Hide hated him. Hide _had_ to hate him. Kaneki had to feed Hide every little fear he was sure had been in the blonde’s head.

They’d been in his own, long ago. From Before.

Kaneki pressed his nails into his scalp. He’d been thinking of that time too often. It was useless. It was futile. Stop, stop, stop.

The time was gone and dead. The manager that had tried to use Hide as a tool was dead. His days from that place were dead. Everything that had ever been said and done to him in that shop was _dead._ There was no reason to linger.

No reason to remember, he told himself. No reason at all.

_“I’m getting sick of the confines to this world. I want to break them. You break it, Kaneki. Break this world. We’re all locked in a cage, and you can be the one to break it down.”_

Kanou’s sick goals. The only person who had wished him this way and yet it was stronger than one thousand others.

Every gaze he’d ever disappointed was right there, shoved into the parts of his mind he never dared venture. They were always there, always looking at him, disappointed, angry, scared, dying, dead.

Disappointed. Angry. Scared. Dying. Dead.

Kaneki examined his palm. The rain had washed away the evidence he had ever been wounded at all. That was bad. He hadn’t even noticed it. He’d been so caught up in shooting the right spot and acting saner and more confident than he was he hadn’t even noticed that he and _that_ man shot at the same time. Both bullets flew, but only one went through the skull.

Bullets seemed to belong in the skull.

Suddenly Kaneki’s hand was covered in blood and the air was stifling. Walls were all around him, and he was bathed in it. An ocean of blood on all sides, expanding across all dimensions and realities inside his own fucked mind. He would never escape it. Ghosts followed him and drowned him in the blood he had bled from them. They gave him double smiles, stuck out that ghastly tongue.

_“You’re good at it, you know? Copying me. They’ll probably think we’re related, now.”_

At least Rize had been proud of him.

It was raining again. Thunder rolled across the sky, and Kaneki distantly wondered if the odds were high enough for him to get struck by lightning. Yes, that would be sufficient. He’d be killed by that. It would take a solid hour to not die.

How pitiful.

_I really hate you, you know?_

Kaneki cracked his knuckle. Yeah. Yeah, Kaneki was good at hating. It was all he had left other than pain and the distant frustration that he’d forgotten what everything was like. What had become of the joy of being alive? What had become of everything else?

He wasn’t a fool. He didn’t question things he didn’t know about, like love. He knew nothing.

But he knew hate.

And he hadn’t seen it in Hide’s eyes.

He’d seen the tiny sparks. Pain and grief came together like a flint and steel and lit that fire. He’d seen those sparks, but he had seen no hate.

In, out. It rained.

In, out. He was alone.

In, out. That fucking heart wouldn’t ever stop, would it?

He knew that if he were to cut open his chest and rip it out, his lungs would fill with blood and he would start to choke. Blood would gush out his mouth and nose until the two main arteries fused and a small muscle spawned, pushing the blood out of his lungs and keeping the body going. Then that muscle would grow into a full-sized heart and everything would be utterly hunky-dory again.

If he were to crash into the concrete at terminal velocity, would he die?

If someone were to toss him naked into the vacuum of space, would he die?

If he were thrown down into the atmosphere to burn up in the clouds of carbon and burning infrared light, would he die?

Kaneki didn’t know. He doubted it was possible.

_“Stop making this about yourself.”_

Touka. Touka would be there to set him straight. She was always right: he was too internal. Too external. Too _him._ Hide was in danger around him, so if Kaneki eliminated himself from the equation, there would be no danger.

That was what they must have wanted, after all.

* * *

 

_2 Months Later_

 

Hide yawned, stretching in his chair. He was early to class for a change. Amon finally said they were going to be doing an actual practical on _actual_ specimens.

Hide bounced on his toes, much to the early-morning annoyance of the rest of his class. “Nagachika’s at it again,” he heard them mutter. Hide grinned in their general direction. He’d been waiting for this. Once today was done, he could waste all of tomorrow getting ready for the big gig Takashi had invited him to. Takashi and Satsuki were finally ‘dating’, and so Takashi had adopted Hide as the official third wheeler.

Hide wasn’t really sure if he hated it or not.

The semester had changed his timetable, which meant we went straight from the morning practical to a Criminal Psychology period for the next ninety minutes. Then he had a break until club activities at 3pm. After Takashi talked him into being ‘the sidekick best friend that is super fucking over-powered’, Hide had joined the karate club. Truth be told, he was absolutely shit but at least he got to muck around with the other members of the class who were even worse than himself.

Nishio wouldn’t be in when Hide got back, so he might as well have a movie night. Nishio seemed to be in their dorm less and less as time went on. When they met, they exchanged only brief ‘sup dickhead’s. Hide was tempted to say it was disheartening.

It kind of wasn’t.

He didn’t want to speak to Nishio.

He’d stashed away the photo and the knife in the same drawer with the letter his mother had given him months and months ago. A letter he would never open. It was a mystery he wasn’t really intrigued by.

He wasn’t intrigued by the happenings at the CCG either, he told himself. He wasn’t, he was just keeping on top of them.

He wasn’t intrigued by Kaneki Ken’s mounting profile. No, he wasn’t interested at all. He was just making sure he knew what dangers he was facing.

Yeah.

That’s what he told himself.

That’s what he thought when he sat himself down to Takashi in Creative Writing nowadays.

* * *

 

“I’ve found Kanou,” said the small, childlike girl as she shipped her drink through her straw. She was incredibly small, with a large camera looped around her neck. On the other side of the café table was a taller man with white hair and an eye-patch over his left eye.

“Finally,” he said hoarsely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay maybe i lied in the summary when i said good moments.  
> so. uh. yes.  
> That happened.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that took the time out of their day to read this! If you left a comment or kudos, thank you very much but really just having someone read this is more than enough and I am so grateful to everyone that seems to go above and beyond. You guys are the best!


	24. I of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh god prepare for this clusterfuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiyaaaaa~  
> I'm SO sorry this took so long! Thank you all so much for your patience, and good luck reading this!
> 
> NOTE: this is completely unbeta'd. I figured I'd left you guys waiting long enough that I'd post it and then re-upload the beta'd version.
> 
> UPDATE: i beta'd it. Some minor changes.

Kaneki didn’t like spring.

He crushed the cigarette he’d been smoking. The dying echoes of winter growled in the wind, cutting through his layers of clothing. The dorm he was looking at was lit up in the warm, yellow-bulb kind of way in the early evening. Saturday night.

Normally, Kaneki would be heading to _Helter Sketler,_ picking up the packages, and getting ready to head out with a group and distribute them. Not this time.

Someone would stop him, right? They’d stop him if they knew what he was planning. If he stared at the window of Nagachika Hideyoshi’s dorm for long enough, would Hide come out and tell him to stop?

 _Don’t be an idiot,_ he told himself. He already knew: Hide hated him. That was fine. He didn’t deserve it from anyone. How selfish it was of him to ask for anything at all, when he was the worst of the worst. Asking for death was too much, so he’d go and find it himself.

If Kaneki went there enough times, not even death would reject him endlessly, right?

But with Kaneki gone, what would happen to everyone else?

He was certain Touka would be fine. Ayato, too. Hinami would be okay without him anyway—he was sure by now that he caused them more trouble and worry by being there than grief ever would.

What about Hide?

Would Hide still be safe without him?

Every night, Kaneki had put off going to find Kanou this way: staring at Hide’s dorm, wondering what Hide’s future would be. When Hori had found Kanou for him, Kaneki knew there was no reason to linger.

So why was he there? Why was he still watching Hide even though Kaneki knew there would never be anything at all? He had caused only problems in his twenty years of life. So many problems. He was sick of it.

Hide would be fine, he tried to convince himself. Hide would be fine. Hide would be _fine._

Kaneki dropped the cigarette, still crushed in his palm, off the edge of the balcony. He watched it fall the seven storeys to the ground, where he couldn’t see it anymore.

Angrily, he tore off the eye-patch he’d been wearing over his left eye and threw it down. Screw it. Screw hiding his left eye. There was no reason to worry about it, anyway. Why would there be?

There was no reason at all to linger.

* * *

 

_“What’s your name?”_

_The woman was older than Kaneki, in her twenties at least. Her hair was long and dark, and despite the sharp angles of her face that Kaneki had seen ignite with anger, her gaze was gentle with him._

_She was one of Kaneki’s few lights._

_“Kaneki,” he told her. “What’s yours?”_

_“Irimi,” she answered, smiling thinly. “What are you in for? Get beat up?”_

_Kaneki skittishly prodded the scars that formed on his scalp. Despite healing from the organ thieves that had done a number on him, it seemed that scars were even more inclined to appear. “Yeah,” he said nervously. “I did my job badly.”_

_“I see,” Irimi said. “Someone as young as you works in that area? What bad luck did you draw?”_

_Kaneki laughed softly. Yeah, bad luck all right._

_“So Kanou likes you?” Irimi asked. “Same. He has this crazy theory that with the right genetic therapy he can make us into God or something.”_

_“Genetic therapy,” Kaneki echoed softly. What was that? Surely, if that was his goal, then why was_ Jason _here? Jason, the ‘Death God of Friday’, was here at this complex and Kaneki had no idea why._

_“Fear not, my Young Kaneki,” announced a man appearing behind Irimi. “We’ll escape!”_

_“Uh . . .” Unknowingly, Kaneki had inched away from them. The new addition to their group was a larger man with brown hair and a round, button nose. Kaneki could see he’d tried to style it up with his hands, but without any comb or hair product, his results were hindered._

_“Pleasure to meet you, I am Koma, but you may call me the Devil Ape.”_

_Koma and Irimi. Kaneki treasured them._

_But even they wouldn’t stop bleeding._

* * *

 

Hide spun himself around on his chair. What was he going to do? Takashi would be there in half an hour, and Hide had _no idea_ what to _do._ Work hadn’t even been that enjoyable, with Seidou’s nagging and the raincloud hanging over Amon’s head as he read through the mounting violent incidents in the city. What was Hide meant to do?

Today was also the fourth time Akira had tried to get him to join the CCG.

‘”It’ll pay for your tuition,” she’d said. “And only ties you in to five years of service afterwards. Lessons are at night. It shouldn’t even mess with your schedule!”

Hide knew Akira was just trying to do the right thing; the CCG _was_ understaffed at the moment, especially with the state the city was in.

The only problem Hide had was that he was more or less programmed to never join the CCG, and if he were lucky, nothing would ever change that.

If he was lucky.

He should stop thinking like that.

“No!” Hide yelled to himself, jumping off his chair. “I have things to do!”

Specifically to annoy Nishio, Hide plugged in a speaker and turned on his playlist. He didn’t even listen to the song; he just wanted to annoy his roommate, who he still childishly had decided not to talk to. God, how long had it been? Three months? Four? Hide had lost count of how long they had been avoiding each other. The act of betrayal no longer even stung, but once Hide had fallen into the rhythm of ignoring the guy, it was hard to break.

Instead, he’d fallen onto the method of trying to annoy the elder so much he came in to scream at Hide.

Hide tore through his closet. Nice clothes, nice clothes, nice clothes. Takashi had invited Hide out to dinner with Satsuki and one of her friends in the hope of creating a ‘double date’. Hide was dubious about the results of this plan Takashi had in mind. He doubted he’d even be attracted to the girl, but hey, she’d probably got roped into this whole thing as well, so he might as well try and make himself presentable.

Hide checked his face in the mirror. Ugh. His hair was growing out like wild. Those dark roots were like weeds, taking over his hair. Argh, damn that natural hair colour. Maybe he should go dark in future to avoid this problem.

Hide pondered that for a second, thinking of his Middle School days with dark hair. Ugh. No.

Drunk sunflower was definitely his style.

They were going somewhere fancy, right? The kind of fancy that Hide had been saving up an entire month for and didn’t have any clothes nearly smart enough to go. Jeez, what had Hide done to be hanging out with someone as rich as Takashi?

Hide emptied his entire wardrobe. He really didn’t have anything good at all.

This left him with two options: one, go into the city and blow all the money he had saved for dinner on clothes or two, ask Nishio.

“Fuuuuuck,” Hide groaned. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. All aboard the fucking nope boat. Hide stalked over to the speaker and jammed up the volume before leaning against it and crossing his arms. Something loud and angry was playing—something Nishio despised. Any second now, the elder would come bursting through the door, Hide was sure, and scream at him.

Hide pulled out his phone and started playing a crappy game.

The song finished. Another started.

Nishio wasn’t coming.

Shit, Hide thought. What if he’d underestimated Nishio? What then?

Hesitantly, Hide peeked through the bedroom door, looking towards Nishio’s room. The grumpy upperclassman was unusually silent, Hide noticed. Kimi wasn’t here, and their exams were done. What could Nishio possibly be doing?

Hide swallowed hard. Time to act.

He strode up to Nishio’s door and knocked boldly. Goddamn, Hide thought to himself, he hated being the one to cave, but necessity called for such measures.

The door creaked open slowly, and Hide saw a sliver of Nishio’s angry-as-fuck face, a single brown eye glaring out at him so intensely Hide thought it might pop out of the guy’s skull.

“Turn off that fucking music,” Nishio growled. “And you can piss right off.”

 _Aaaah shiiiiiet,_ Hide internally groaned. He hurried back to his room, hitting the off switch before jogging the six paces across to Nishio’s side. Hide threw the door open this time, seeing a disgruntled Nishio standing above his desk.

“Huh?” Nishio grunted, “What do you want?”

From the way he stood, the air he had, Hide could see very clearly that he used to part of Tokyo’s gang world. God, they seemed to be popping up everywhere around him.

“I need some nice clothes!” Hide yelled. “I don’t own any!”

The anger on Nishio’s face slowly turned into confusion, and the man blinked a few times, adjusting his glasses. “ _What?”_

Hide took a deep breath, before launching into an explanation. “My friend who’s filthy rich invited me out on this double-date business and I have no idea what’s really going to happen because the whole thing looks like an excuse to show off to his girlfriend but the problem is that we’re going to this really nice place that’s super fancy and the nicest things I own are a pair of brand tracksuit pants please help me!”

“I literally have no idea what you just said,” Nishio deadpanned. “And to be honest, I don’t really want to hear it again. What do you need so you can leave quickly?”

“Clothes!” Hide yelled, clenching his hands into fists. “I need nice clothes!”

Nishio sighed. “None of these will fit you. In case you haven’t noticed, Trashika, I’m taller than you.”

Hide pouted. “ _Please!”_

Nishio groaned, turning. “Fine! I barely own anything nice either, but this arsehole I used to know gave me a suit a while back. Here.” Nishio jammed something in a plastic cover hanging off a coat hanger in his direction. “Take it.”

Hide was practically glowing. “ _Nishio,”_ he sung, carefully adding the ‘senpai’ on the end. Nishio only scowled in his direction and waved him off. At last, Hide wouldn’t feel like that one country billy.

Then Hide realised that the suit was outrageously fancy. The label read _Tsukiyama Corp._

Goddammit.

* * *

 

The night had ticked away by the time Kaneki arrived. The difference was clear to the last place they’d gone: this one was definitely CCG owned. It was larger, grander, and Kaneki had no idea where the grounds ended.

Moving towards the door, he was distinctly aware of the empty air around him. Working alone had its benefits, but tonight it felt solemn. The air was chilly, sediment and unforgiving. Spring had come, but winter’s influence had not yet been shaken.

No one came to stop him as he approached. If he weren’t alone, he would be wary, scouting the area to make sure no one else died by his actions.

But tonight, he was alone. Tonight, Kaneki didn’t care. He’d seen everything go up in smoke before, only another few goals and belongings would follow. The endgame was always the same, wasn’t it? Before and After were just components to an equation that ended. Finite. Complete.  

Kaneki hated mathematics.

The door was locked, this time. It presented something Kaneki had not thought of.

No matter. No matter.

He pulled out the small gun and shot off the handle, before kicking the door in roughly. Maybe someone would come. Maybe they wouldn’t.

It wasn’t like he cared.

The house was similarly desolate and empty as it had been the first time. It could be a hoax again, Kaneki reasoned. If it were, what would he do?

He could have scoffed. It wouldn’t matter if it were a hoax. He’d just keep looking. This was the one job he had given himself, and he would see it through. Even if he failed everything else, even if he disappointed everyone, even if he was too weak to do anything else, he would do this.

He had to.

It didn’t take long to walk through the empty, disused rooms and head to the basement. As a CCG property, there would no doubt be interlocking, connected tunnels under the building that Kanou had made use of. There was a simple way to check if it was the same as the last place Kanou had taken—something Kaneki had neglected last time.

He stabbed a knife through the wall and waiting for its tissues to fall apart.

They did.

The slobbery, organic mess began to collapse from the workings of the wall. Organic material. The same substance Kanou had abused the way he wanted to get the desired result. This wouldn’t be a hoax. Organic building materials took time and effort to maintain. If Kanou had taken the time to slowly manifest them, then he would have expanded his workspace. How? What ‘funky’ additions would he include now? Did he still pursue his dream?

How nice, Kaneki wanted to tell him. That he had the pride in himself to continue being a fucking psycho. Without Jason at his side to do everything that wasn’t clinical enough for Kanou, how had he been doing?

Maybe I should apologise, Kaneki mused as he walked along the halls, for crushing his dreams. Kanou had just wanted the constraints broken. He had just wanted to be free. Long ago, Kaneki had felt the same way.

No matter.

Kaneki reached a clearing, staring out into a vast, empty room. In the far corner, he could see a security camera, buzzing and whirring as it focused on him. Ah, so this was how it would be. Of course.

No matter, Kaneki thought as he walked along, the tiles he walked on slowly turning from white to a checkerboard pattern. Nothing mattered anymore. It didn’t matter how many screws had been wrenched out of his brain, it didn’t matter how delicate his sanity’s balance was, it didn’t matter the pain he had felt or dealt or witnessed. Nothing mattered at all. Not a single shred of Kaneki Ken mattered.

Huh, he thought dully as he walked across the room. How simple it all was.

After this, nothing would matter at all.

* * *

 

“Hello!” Hide, despite himself, saluting awkwardly. He’d ditched the jacket at the last minute, way too self-conscious to wear it, and decided to wear the nicest casual top he had. This also happened to be a bright red bomber jacket. Smooth, Hide, real smooth. Everyone else had come in suits and smart dresses. Hide was _so_ not smart enough for this.

Takashi, on the other hand, was buzzing with excitement. During the walk from the garage, he’d gone on and on about how _amazing_ the world was and how _lucky_ he was to have met Satsuki. Hide, for all his patience, couldn’t help but feel a little bitter.

That was pretty selfish of him, right? Nope, Hide had to be the good, happy-go-lucky friend now, even if he was hopelessly underdressed and not remotely part of this crowd.

So, when he’d met Satsuki’s ‘friend’, he’d pulled out all the stops.

The other girl gave a soft laugh, pressing delicate fingertips against her lips to try and stifle it. “It’s a pleasure,” she said smoothly, dark eyes glinting. “My name is Yasuhisa Kurona. You are?”

She was definitely very beautiful, Hide realised. It was the same kind of sharp glint he’d seen in other less trusting members of the city, like Rize. However this girl didn't seem to be overly predatory or dangerous, just sharp.

Sharp enough for Hide to cut himself on.

Hide really had to stop finding that beautiful in people. Look where it had got him with Kaneki. Jeez.

“M-My name is Nagachika Hideyoshi, but you can just call me Hide,” he said, grinning widely. Nervously, he scratched at his cheek. “So, what brings you here?”

Kurona shrugged, handing her coat to the doorman. Beneath it, she wore a long black dress that suited her dark features and long, dark hair. The sharp cut of her fringe made her eyes seem very large. “Satsuki invited me. I think she just wanted us to interact so we’d be distracted from her and Takashi.”

Hide laughed, nervousness fading. Maybe she wouldn’t be too bad to talk to, after all. “I know the feeling. He’d been super excited about this gig of his.”

“Yeah, ‘gig’.” Kurona gave another one of her soft chuckles. “That’s a unique way of putting it.”

Hide felt his face go bright red. “W-well, I’m not wrong, am I? It technically is.”

“No, no, I was just amused. I would have thought you wouldn’t like this at all. You seem like the kind of guy that digs around for trouble, but you’re pretty . . . relaxed.”

“I seem like that?” Hide asked, properly surprised. Did he really give off the air of dumpster-diving for a mystery to solve? God, he needed to fix that ASAP. “Sorry. I didn’t even realise.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kurona waited patiently beside her chair, and it took Hide a _very_ long moment to realise that she was waiting for him to pull it out for her. Thoroughly embarrassed, he did so. God, he was so unrefined.

Satsuki and Takashi were already sitting beside them, Hide realised, and talking and laughing their faces off. They really got along, and it made Hide disappointed in himself for feeling so bitter. Who was he to say that about someone else’s happiness? Just because his had hit a hurdle?

“Is this your first time in the nicer part of the city?” Kurona asked, placing her bag on the table. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Ah, no,” Hide said hurriedly. “I actually come from way out in the country, where Takashi used to live.”

“I see,” Kurona said smoothly. “I could tell. You have this sort of . . . energy? I’m not quite sure how to put it.”

“Yeah, I kind of look like a delinquent,” Hide admitted. “I also have no manners, but please put up with me.”

Kurona blinked a few times, before laughing again. “Oh my God, you’re great, you know that?”

Hide stared at his hands, face red. “I . . . guess?”

“Never mind me,” Kurona insisted, petting his hands. “Tell me about your family, and your childhood and stuff. Then I’ll tell you about me.”

_“You tell us everything you know about Kaneki, and we’ll tell you everything we know about you.”_

A chill went down Hide’s back. Suddenly Kurona’s smile didn’t seem so genuine. In fact, it seemed to become more and more like Rize’s. Hide noticed the way one side of her bangs fell lower than the other over her eyes. There was something off about her left eye. Her fingernails had been expertly painted white, though. Her hands were loose and natural on the table’s surface, and her posture was relaxed.

“Well, I was raised on a rice farm by a bunch of hillbillies,” Hide said, once again scratching at his cheek nervously. God, was that a nervous tick? Stop that! “I was pretty much a giant troublemaker. Nothing new there.”

“I know the feeling. My sister is the more responsible one out of us two. My mother was always so strict with me. Was that the same for you?”

_Why is she so interested in my family?_

No, she had offered up a detail in exchange for another. A small detail, but a detail nonetheless. Hide should stop being so over-analytical. She was probably just trying to make smalltalk.

“My mother is . . . eh, she was pretty cool about me. She supported me being individual, even when I caused trouble. That being said, she was fully capable of blasting me into next week when I did something _really_ bad.”

When in doubt, he should be generic. Good tactic, he decided.

“Same here,” Kurona agreed. “Do you have any siblings? I’ve only got one sister, but . . . we’re pretty close.”

“Nope, only child,” Hide grinned. “It has its merits and its bad bits, I guess.”

Kurona smiled. Hide noticed the small scar under her left eye. God, what was so creepy about it? It looked healthy, it moved right, so why did it feel so . . . off?

Ignore it, Hide thought. _Ignore it._

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

Kaneki’s footsteps echoed in the room. Wet and squelching, as if he were walking in the rain.

It was blood.

 _What was Aogiri doing here?_ was all he could wonder. If Eto had sided with Kanou . . . well, it didn’t matter in the end. Nothing mattered at all.

Walking through the final door, he saw two people:

Shiro, and Furuta.

Behind them, a wall rose up, but stopped halfway through, creating a mezzanine-like balcony. Looking up, Kaneki could see that the walls extended for several more stories. Just how deep were they, really?

“My, my, Kaneki, how far you’ve come!” Furuta drawled, energetic as always. “Come to kill us all, have you? How quaint!”

“So I was right,” Kaneki mused. “You _can_ regenerate from fatal wounds.”

Furuta’s grin didn’t falter. “Of course! It was a good choice, after all! The price for immortality was surprisingly small. Just one month underground with some chemical therapy to alter my genetic code.”

Shiro was unusually quiet beside him.

“Where’s Kanou?” Kaneki asked. “Tell me, where is—“

“ _Kaneki.”_

His eyes shot up to where the figure clad in white had appeared, standing in the dark break between the walls. “It’s been a while, you know? My little Lucifer.”

* * *

 

“Aw, come on,” Hide whined. “It’s raining?”

“Shame,” Kurona said beside him. “No matter. It was nice to meet you, Hide. Thank you very much for inviting me, Satsuki. Takashi, thank you for dinner.”

Kurona bowed politely. “I hope to see you all again.”

“Ah—bye, Kurona!” Hide waved after the girl, who was getting into her chauffer. She waved politely at him, and they drove off. God, that had taken a toll. His suspicions had only grown stronger as the night wore on, and Hide was unable to convince himself that she was just an average, rich kid.

Takashi opened an umbrella. “Let’s go,” he said happily. With Satsuki hanging off his arm, Hide could only follow awkwardly, the third wheeling being overly intense. It was just like Takashi to give Satsuki a ride home. Maybe Hide should take the train.

“Oi, Hide, catch up, will you? You’ll get soaked, man.” Takashi gave him a cautious eye over his shoulder. “You’ll get my car wet!”

Ah, good old Takashi. Hide jogged to catch up. “Sorry, bro. Guess I’ll just ruin that brand-new car your uncle gave you, after all.”

“Pff,” Takashi muttered. Satsuki smiled across at Hide, who, despite the rain falling from the edge of the umbrella onto his shoulder, grinned back.

“Oh! I have to call my parents,” Satsuki said, releasing Takashi to go through her purse. “They’ll want to know where I am.”

“I told them I’d give you a ride home,” Takashi pouted. “Do they really not like me?”

“It’s fine,” Satsuki said gently. “I’m just telling them that I’ll be home soon. Do you really want them to like you that much?”

Satsuki was a genuine person, Hide noticed. She had a very calming nature over the people she was around with her soft smile. No wonder Takashi liked her so much.

“Eh, if I was your parents, I wouldn’t want him around either,” Hide joked. “I mean, look at the guy.”

Satsuki laughed, but Takashi pouted. “I’m not _that_ bad.”

“Do you really want a childhood recount?” Hide prompted. “Think of Junior High! Remember that time you pretended to be sick so you could go to the nurse’s office to—”

“Shut up!” Takashi shoved him away, face red. Hide doubled over laughing.

“It’s a good thing you ended up here, though,” Hide said, trying to force his laughter away. As much of a laugh as Takashi was, Hide was aware how hard he was trying to be responsible in front of his girlfriend. Hide grinned. “Good thing that uncle of yours is rich as.”

“Speaking of which, how _did_ you end up here?” Satsuki asked politely, looking across at him. “No offence, I was just told that you were, well, less well-off than this one here.” She tapped Takashi’s arm. Hide grinned in response.

“My humble rice-farming parents were not quite as rich as lord Troublemaker’s here, but I got a scholarship from Kamii.”

“Wow,” Satsuki breathed. “And you’re friends with _him_?”

It took Hide a second to realise that they were waiting for Takashi’s response. A response that wasn’t coming, because Takashi had fallen behind without them even noticing. Not even Hide had noticed.

“Into the alley,” growled the man with a gun pressed to Takashi’s head, “or this one dies right now.”

Holy shit, Hide thought.

_Holy shit._

* * *

 

Kaneki could have yelled back at Kanou about whatever weird nickname now existed for him, but he didn’t. It didn’t matter what Kanou thought of him. It didn’t matter what names he had. All that mattered was that Kanou died.

Furuta and Shiro were in his way. If he wanted to get to Kanou, he’d have to fight them.

No matter.

He pulled out his gun with one hand, and a knife with the other. They’d go down for a few seconds if he could get them, at least. Even if they didn’t die.

“Now, now, Kaneki,” said Kanou, “let’s talk for a moment. You’re my favourite, you know? So perfectly made, so perfectly functioning. As your God, your creator, I’m entitled to, right?”

“Get fucked,” Kaneki growled. “I don’t have time for chatting.”

_Time was running out. Time was running out. The time, the perfect thousand, dropping away by sevens at an uncatchable pace, too quick for him—_

Kaneki lunged at Furuta without waiting for Kanou to speak. The man dodged, laughing and skipping away. “Do you have time for that, Kaneki?”

A blade pressed against his throat, an arm catching him from behind.

“Shut up and listen when Kanou speaks, _Kaneki.”_

Shiro. Where was her sister? Weren’t they always together?

“Be patient for a moment, Kaneki. Your rashness will be your undoing.”

Kaneki strained against the knife. He was stronger than Shiro; he could pull free even if it meant cutting his own throat. Furuta pushed his head back, his taller frame overpowering Kaneki.

Shit. He had to pause for a second and listen.

Why was he even hesitating?

God, that was hilarious. Hadn’t he already decided? Nothing mattered.

Everyone was just a distant figure, interacting with his tangible form. They didn’t matter at all. A bundle of reproducing cells, of functioning organs, of beating hearts. What happened in their heads meant nothing. The synapses in their brains meant nothing. Kaneki meant nothing to them, why should they mean anything to Kaneki?

“It was your role, I suppose, to be cast into Hell. God’s favourite was always meant to. You did a fine job ruling Hell, Kaneki, but you cannot touch me.”

_You cannot touch me, Kaneki._

Kaneki was sick of being weak.

Kaneki kicked up with his legs, his weight falling back against Shiro’s. His feet collided with Furuta’s chest, knocking the man away. He hurled his knife into Furuta’s shoulder, shooting blindly behind him in Shiro’s direction. He started towards Kanou, looking for a way up. Ladders, rungs, anything would do—

Kaneki heard it before he felt it, the gunshot. The next thing he knew, the familiar heat of pain was flying through his head and he was thrown back, staring at the faraway ceiling before he hit the ground.

Shit, they’d hit him good.

“Do you really have time to be fighting?” Kanou asked. “Haven’t you made this mistake before? Believing the wrong things. Making the wrong decisions. You’re terrible at that, aren’t you, Kaneki?”

Shiro appeared above him, and Kaneki tried to force himself up. She pressed her foot against his head, pinning him down. Fuck. At this rate, it would take around thirty seconds before Kaneki’s brain was intact enough for him to move. He was still conscious and thinking, which meant the shot had probably been from a smaller bullet and not blown out the back of his head.

His skull burned. It would have been painful if Kaneki didn’t feel it _all the fucking time._ Cells, hundreds of thousands, millions of cells all regenerating at breakneck speed to fill in the hole the bullet left.

Furuta took his weapons quickly.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Kaneki was ashes scattered at the bottom of an abyss, turning to dust and blowing away in the wind. It didn’t matter how many times they shot him. He _would_ kill them. He _would_ kill Kanou.

“You can’t kill me, Kaneki,” Kanou said, smiling down at him. There was a sick sense of pride Kaneki could feel, even from where he lay. “You know you can’t.”

Kaneki could have responded, but that would have taken time. Seconds were ticking by. Any moment now, he could move. Any. Second.

“Do you want to know why you’ll never kill me?”

Now.

Kaneki grabbed Shiro’s ankle and flung her aside. He twisted out of the way of Furuta’s shooting, reaching around to disarm him. As his hand closed around Furuta’s wrist, the taller man elbowed him in the head. Kaneki took it, holding on tightly before twisting the man’s arm and kneeing the tensed joint so it shattered.

He heard Furuta gasp between clenched teeth, and wrenched the gun away.

Shiro was on him again in a moment, shooting him in the leg. Kaneki glared at her, taking a cautious step away. Charging blindly would favour him, but by the time he was done with them Kanou would escape.

Then . . . why wasn’t Kanou moving?

“Where do you think my sister is, Kaneki?” Shiro snapped, glass eye glinting. “Tell me!”

“I don’t care where she is,” Kaneki said dully. “Why would I?”

Furuta’s smile was tight and thin, his face pale with pain. His body took a long time to heal. Maybe he wasn’t as perfect as Shiro.

Or maybe he was just new.

“You’ve made this mistake before,” Kanou reminded him casually. “What were they called . . . ? The failures. You became quite close with them, remember?”

_“The failures. They’re dead. It’s no loss, they were useless anyway.”_

Kaneki shook his head violently. His vision blurred. The ground was turning black and white. His hands were covered in blood, completely empty. Blood and flesh had dried under his fingernails.

_Savage._

_Monster._

_Lucifer._

_Kaneki._

“I’m not wrong,” Kaneki said. “I’m not wrong!”

“Not yet,” Kanou mused. “But now, you have to choose. Would you rather kill me, or save someone else?”

“There’s no one to save!”

“Are you sure?”

Kaneki hated it. He hated it. He hated it. Kanou didn’t know what he was doing. Kanou knew nothing. How could Kaneki ever be wrong? Who was there left to save? How could he ever be making a mistake? What could he be doing wrong?

Wait . . .

Where was Kurona?

Why were only Furuta and Shiro here? Sure, Aogiri’s louts had been outside, but they weren’t important. Where were the big fishes?

Why were they missing?

_The place was empty. Kaneki breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t think anyone is here,” he whispered to them. “I’m not sure why.”_

_“Let’s go,” Koma urged. “Take the chance while it’s here.”_

_“Yes,” Irimi agreed. “Let’s go, Kaneki.”_

“No,” Kaneki told himself. “I’m not wrong. I am _not_ wrong.”

Who was he talking to?

The room was empty. From the ground, red spider lilies pushed up through the tiles. In the distance, he watched three figures sneak out of a dark doorway that had broken through the wall, splitting down the middle as if he were watching a bug dig its way through the earth.

 _No,_ Kaneki wanted to tell them. _No, if you go there, he’ll get you. Stop, Kaneki! Stop!_

Kaneki Ken, Irimi, Koma—they were all caught. They could never escape.

_If he reached zero from one thousand, if he counted all the way down, they’d stop, right? The pain would stop. It had to, right? It had to! Please, let it stop. Let them stop bleeding! He hadn’t meant for this! He’d just wanted to escape!_

_“Keep counting, Kaneki,” growled Jason, appearing above him. Kaneki studied the hockey mask, the way blood had dried and stained it. “It will never end. Show me how far down into Hell you can climb. Show me the ice!”_

_Where had Kaneki gone wrong?_

_Red, gangly spider lilies grew from the eye sockets of Jason’s masks. From behind him, a pair of slender hands grasped it and lifted it off his face._

_His head disappeared. From over the stump of his neck, Kaneki stared at Rize’s form. Her mouth was bloody, the red trail oozing down between her breasts, falling into every curve of her naked body._

_“You’ve broken, Kaneki,” she laughed, smiling. “Don’t worry, I told you it would happen.”_

_Now, Kaneki stared down at the limp, dead form of Jason. Laughter. He was laughing, wasn’t he? Sitting in an endless ocean of blood that had felt so_ satisfying _to spill. What could possibly feel better than that?_

_Nothing. Nothing could at all._

_Death was finite. Death was the end. No matter how much he counted, it continued. It couldn’t be undone._

_“You made the mistake,” Irimi told him, walking in front of him, her bare feet repelling the blood. “You knew we should never have gone. You tried to escape, but you chose the wrong thing. The wrong moment. To try and save yourself, you got us killed, you know that?”_

_Her dark, straight hair grew down. Kaneki watched it slither to the ground until it sucked up the blood Jason’s body had spilled. “Now look. He’s dead but nothing’s happened at all.”_

_“Nothing will happen,” Kaneki said. His voice seemed to come from elsewhere. “There is nothing.”_

Everything was so disjointed. Kaneki stared at Kanou’s distant face, and slowly, in his smirk, Kaneki realised what he meant. Kuro wasn’t there. Kuro was elsewhere. Something was _happening._

Kaneki took an unsteady step away. Surely not, right? He’d come all this way, endured all this, to find Kanou. He was just one step away. He could reach him. He could kill him, right there, with his bare hands. He could let himself fall to pieces over the man’s corpse. Kaneki didn’t care at all.

As Shiro stepped towards him, Kaneki saw the white of her hair turn red. Her glass eye was missing. In her hands, instead of knives, she held the stems of bright red flowers, dripping blood onto the tiles.

They were white. The tiles were white, Kaneki told himself. He was in an empty room, with Kanou and Shiro and Furuta. There were no flowers. He was not going to break apart now. Kurona’s glass eye was emptier than his own, and in her hands she held knives.

“Make your choice, Kaneki,” she said. “Waste your time killing us and Kanou, or let your precious people be killed.”

His precious . . . people . . . ?

_“Don’t you have a home to go back to?”_

Kaneki took another step back. Suddenly, he was very unsteady. His limbs ached from fatigue. How long had it been since he last slept? Shit, was he even in any condition to fight? How foolish was he, coming here?

Hadn’t he said it wouldn’t matter? God, how fucking stupid could he be? Kanou. He had to kill Kanou. He’d do it, and it would be done. It wouldn’t even take five minutes. It was a bluff. Surely, it was a bluff.

“Nagachika seems like a nice boy,” Furuta mused, smiling. “Who’s more important, I wonder?”

_“I’ll fucking wait for you, you know that?”_

Kaneki’s hands were shaking, now. Hide was in danger, and Kaneki was letting it happen. Shit. Shit, Hide was in danger, and Kaneki had _left_ him. Shit shit shit.

Kurona was missing, and Nashiro knew why.

_“Make your choice!” Yamori laughed. “Irimi, the gentle soul, or the humorous Koma?”_

_Choose: Hide, or Kanou._

It was all Kaneki’s fault. Hide would die, and it would be all Kaneki’s fault.

Kaneki stared at the room. Suddenly it was white and black and red, crawling with the dead and memories Kaneki didn’t want to think of.

A black-haired boy stared across the room at him, eyes empty and grey like Kaneki’s own.

_“It’s all your fault,” Before Kaneki told him. “You could have saved them! You could have saved everyone! It’s your own weakness!”_

It didn’t matter whether this was a bluff or not. Kanou or Hide, Kaneki didn’t care who was more important. He didn’t care.

He didn’t want Hide to die.

He turned and ran. He ran through the blood, through the corridors, through the rain.

_All of the disadvantages in the world stem from one’s lack of ability._

So be it. Maybe Kaneki would fail. Maybe by the time he dragged himself to Kanou again, after missing this chance, he would fail. It didn’t matter.

But Hide was waiting for him.

Waiting to be saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh . . .  
> yeah?
> 
> I'm so sorry if Kaneki's last little bit was confusing. I was trying to make it as weird and as fractured as possible, but hopefully the general meaning came through. Feel free to send me a message any way you want if there was something that I did badly and didn't make sense, and I'll try and explain it to you and fix the chapter as well.
> 
> As usual, thank you so much for all your patience and constant support! Everyone that so much as comes near this story is so precious to me, and I really can't think of a way to thank you guys all sufficiently! I've fallen a bit behind on the replying to comments lately, but I'll try and fix that over the next few days since GUISE. GUISE I AM ON BREAK. 
> 
> Wherever you are, I hope your day is as great and as amazing as you are!
> 
> prepare for quick updates and late-night breakdowns as I neglect my work. o(≧o≦)o


	25. Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Any panic he’d been pushing away until now burst through, because now he was certain.  
> This wasn’t a mugging at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: an unbeta'd mess (again).
> 
>  
> 
> _And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky one._  
>  _Because most of our feelings, they are dead, and they are gone._  
> 
> 
>  

_“There’s nothing wrong with being weak,” Irimi told him. “When you’re weak, you may be someone’s reason to fight. There is nothing sadder than being strong, Kaneki. Don’t forget that. The strong are such pitiful people, always having to fight for the sake of someone else.”_

* * *

 

“Hurry up,” the man growled, giving Takashi’s skull a shove with the tip of the gun. “I’m not a patient person.”

He was wearing a very long, loose coat. Hide recognised it from his work in the office: Aogiri. What the hell was Aogiri doing here? What ever could they possibly want with them?

Was this connected to Kaneki?

Hide scanned the street around them as discreetly as possible: no one was around. Of course no one would be around, it was raining, dark, and in the early hours of the morning. They were alone on the street with a gun pressed to Takashi’s head. Shit.

Hesitantly, they followed the man’s orders.

If only he’d actually joined the CCG, he’d know what to do in this event, Hide rationalised. Okay, he had to really calm down. Glancing to Satsuki, he saw her shaking in terror, silent tears streaming down her cheeks already. Fuck. At this rate, they could die.

They could die.

What were their options? Hide had a phone. He had a wallet. He had everything a mugger would want, assuming they were just being mugged. There were options. Hide _had_ to stay calm and think his way out. Now was the time.

It didn’t help that his heart was racing too fast for his lungs to keep up.

As they backed properly into the alley, the smell of garbage and rotting, wet dumpster permeated the air. No one uttered a word of complaint.

“Against the wall,” the mugger ordered. “Now! And no funny business.”

Hide and Satsuki pressed themselves flat against the wall. It would only take a few seconds to hit the _Emergency Call_ button on Hide’s phone. He could do it, right? He had to watch for an opening.

The mugger slammed Takashi into the wall, now pressing the gun to his head. Hide sucked in a breath, his stomach sinking. Any panic he’d been pushing away until now burst through, because now he was certain.

This wasn’t a mugging at all.

The man had screwed a silencer onto the end of his gun. No one would help them if they were shot. If it were a mugging, the man would be asking for their things so he could run. He didn’t plan to fire multiple shots.

Beside him, Hide heard Satsuki begin to whisper her prayers.

“Stop that!” the man snapped at them. Hide studied the lines of his face, hidden behind a scarf over his mouth. Did he know this man? Did he know anything about this man? How the fuck did they get out of this? They could die, for fuck’s sake!

“I want your belongings on the ground,” the man snapped. “Purses. Phones. Now. And don’t tell me you haven’t got them on you.”

Hide glanced across at Takashi’s face, seeing the tears in his friend’s eyes and the silent plea of _please do it._

So Hide did. He pulled out his wallet and his phone, his lifeline, his ticket to safety, and he tossed them onto the ground in front of him. Two metres of distance was all that separated him from hitting two buttons and getting to safety.

Shit, why hadn’t he hit the button when he was holding the phone? Shit! What was he _doing?_

“Please,” Satsuki whispered, “please, let us go. We didn’t do anything . . . we don’t have anything . . . please . . .” she was crying, terrified. Hide wasted a second trying to meet her eyes, but they were clenched shut, her face tilted towards the sky. Raindrops had soaked through her warm layers already, sliding off her face.

Hide heard the man shuffle through Takashi’s pockets and remove his phone and wallet. Please, Hide begged silently, don’t go through my pockets. Please don’t.

Hide had never been more thankful for carrying an illegal weapon.

“Well then,” said the man, moving past Hide to Satsuki, where he pressed the gun to her head, “maybe I _could_ let you go, if you do one thing for me.”

The chill in the air seemed to come from the gun grasped in the man’s hand. Cold, icy particles emanated from its very presence, freezing Hide to the spot. Fuck, why was this always happening to him? What had he done wrong in life to end up in _this_ situation? Kaneki? The guy two months ago who used him as a hostage? The fact that he came to the city at all? Fuck, what had he done _wrong_?

Hide wanted to run.

He could feel his legs shaking beneath him, barely keeping him upright. If he fled now, would he be pursued? Fuck, he wanted to run away from this so _badly,_ but he couldn’t move an inch. Ice had frozen him in place, stuck the soles of his feet to the ground and the skin of his back to the brick alley wall. He couldn’t move.

“Can you tell me which one of these boys is Takigawa Takashi?” the man leaned against her, pushing their hips together in a morbid display of affection. Satsuki’s eyes were now wide and terrified, eyes cast to the side in an attempt to not look at him despite the way the gun held her in place.

They were going to die, Hide realised slowly, as if he were being frozen solid. His stomach churned, and he wanted to throw up. No, they weren’t _going_ to die.

_They were dead._

“If you do,” the man continued, gravelly voice ironing itself to smoothness in an attempt to be seductive, “then maybe I’ll—let—you—go.” With every syllable, he twisted and pressed the barrel of the gun harder into Satsuki’s head. She whimpered in pain, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as her whole body convulsed and shook in terror.

Hide could feel Takashi’s stare of horror, equally frozen in place. Hide could run, right? If he ran, the gunman would be distracted. Or better, if he reached for the phone, then he could get help _and_ run.

It sounded quaint and cute, like a terrier trying to fight a wolf.

“It’s . . .” Satsuki’s voice was faint and shaking. The gunman seemed so absorbed in her terror, Hide realised. Would he even notice if Hide slowly reached for his phone?

An inch. Hide was shaking so hard, his lungs could hardly function. He felt as if his body was trying to shrink in on itself, trying to compress itself into a size where no one would see it, where he could escape. Another inch.

Satsuki’s mouth was forming words, but she couldn’t utter a word. “Now, now,” said the gunman, “I’m not patient, remember?”

Hide lunged. He grabbed the phone in his hand and turned, ready to run—

The sound of the gun firing was disgustingly quiet.

Hide stumbled and fell, his leg exploding in pain. He wanted to scream, but he’d clenched his jaw shut. Fuck, fuck, _fuck, FUCK FUCK—_

The man was coming, Hide saw through blurred vision. Shit, he had to hit the button, he had to get help—

The man crushed Hide’s hand beneath his foot and twisted. Hide heard something crunch, cutting through the white-hot pain consuming his hand. Fuck, what now? _What now?_

“You’re a bad one,” the gunman sneered. “Is it you? Are you Takigawa Takashi?”

If Hide opened his mouth, he was sure he’d scream. Fuck, why was the ground warm?

Oh shit, he realised. That was blood. That was _his_ blood. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it in the warmth that had mixed with the rainwater on the concrete. Shit, would he bleed to death? If they escaped this, would he still die?

_I don’t want to die._

“It’s him!” Takashi yelled. “He’s Takigawa!”

_But I’m not—_

The man grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and hoisted him up to his feet. On a shaky leg, Hide’s weight relied on the fact that the icy nozzle of a gun was being pressed to his temple.

Oh, God, help him. Someone, anyone, help him. Shit. What the fuck did he do now? When there wasn’t a fucking knife to his throat, there was a gun to his head! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

_Please help me, someone, anyone, please please please please please_

_“Tokyo is dangerous, Hide!”_

_“That city will never be good.”_

_“No more bad people with good intentions.”_

_“You’ll get killed.”_

_Fuck._

God, was he crying? How pathetic was that? Oh, God, he was going to be shot through the head and he’d be fucking crying. Imagine that, Ma, coming to my funeral and seeing my face like that.

Oh shit.

“Now, _Takashi,”_ the gunman lilted into his year, “you can choose which one of your friends gets to die first.”

_Which one of your friends I kill._

Holy shit. Holy shit. _Holy fuck. Holy—_

Hide stared at them. Satsuki, the gentle, genuine soul with short hair and a kind heart, and his childhood friend. Their eyes were wide in terror, tears streaming down their cheeks because they knew. They _knew._ They were gong to die.

They were going to die and they _regretted._ They regretted _so much._ Hide was so full of regrets and he was going to die there, in someone else’s clothes under someone else’s name in a city he didn’t even know.

If only he’d stayed in the country.

If only he’d never sat that goddamn scholarship.

If only he’d never met Takashi.

Satsuki was whispering something, fear mixed into every shadow of her face, but Hide couldn’t hear anything. His very breath seemed to echo off the metal of the gun and deafen him in the spot. His leg burned, the warmth of blood seeping through his trousers. His broken hand was useless, his phone crushed, still on the ground.

Why was he even there?

How could he even look Takashi in the eye, now, knowing that he had put Hide here to save his own skin? What was Hide meant to make of that?

If Hide wasn’t the one there, though, Takashi would be making this decision.

Oh, God. Hide would be the one to kill them, wouldn’t he? He’d be the _reason_ they were dead. _God,_ he was a killer. He’d have to kill one of these people here, people who he was friends with, dammit. People whom he had convinced himself for so long didn’t matter and yet, there he was, about to kill them. So long, pretending he was alone, because they people, whom he had thought were distant and useless were _precious_ and he just wanted them all to be _safe_ and he wanted to go back in time and rewrite this whole fucking event.

_Look after number one._

Hide couldn’t do it.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice shaking even harder than his body, “don’t do this.”

“Don’t waste my time, _Takigawa,”_ snapped the gunman. “Your uncle is in need of punishment, and where better to hit him than _here_?”

So it was Takashi’s fault.

Hide was hyperventilating. His heart felt like it would burst through his ribcage, like it would crush his lungs under the rapid pumping of blood through his body. He couldn’t drag enough air in, couldn’t separate enough oxygen from falling rain and blood. Shit. Shit, shit. Why was he there? Had he really wanted to come to this thing? Why hadn’t he just stayed home and argued with Nishio and _fuck,_ why had he come?

Wasn’t there a way to escape? Could Hide even escape? Could _they_ escape?

The knife weighed heavy in Hide’s pocket. He wasn’t left handed, but it was his only choice if he had a plan.

Hide couldn’t be saved, so he had to save his friends.

He scowled, feeling the chorus of _look after number one,_ in his mother’s panicked voice, as he tried to think it through. The moment seemed to stretch on forever. How long had they been there? If Hide waited long enough, would the gunman get tired and go home?

Stop being stupid! he wanted to yell at himself. He was smart, right? Then fucking smart a way out of this!

If he chose, Takashi, Satsuki would die. If he chose Satsuki, Takashi would die. What if Hide chose himself? What then?

_Fuck,_ Hide thought, _I don’t want to die._

How was he going to do this? By what crazy stretch of imagination was he going to do this, huh? What idiot had devised this? Everything was Hide’s fault, no matter what decision he made! Shit. _Shit._ It would be Hide’s decision, Hide fault, and the gunman would be the fucking one pulling the trigger, and it would be his fault, and this was all because of Takashi and it was _Takashi’s_ fault, and the fact that Satsuki wasn’t even involved made it her fault too, and _fuck._

“Stop wasting my time!” the gunman yelled, giving Hide’s head a shove.

The gun was cold and heavy, reeking of chemicals and gunpowder. Copper bullets.

Any hope Hide had clung to that this was just a glorified prank disappeared with that smell. This was no prank. This was no bad dream. This was _real._

Hide had never wanted anything to be less real in his _life._

They were going to die, and Hide had to make a strategic decision.

_“Stop trying so hard for other people. That’ll get you, in the end. You have to look after yourself, Hide. Number one. Always look after number one.”_

“H . . . Him,” Hide whispered.

“Who?” sung the gunman, leaning closer. “I didn’t hear that. You’ll have to say it _louder._ You wouldn’t want them to miss it, right?”

“Oh, _God,”_ Hide sobbed, finally breaking under the strain. Tears that had been welling in his eyes finally slipped down his cheeks. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. NO! There _had_ to be a better way. He had a knife, right? He could use it, right? Surely, after being made to try and kill his friends, he could kill this guy, right?

Why did he have to kill anyone? God _damn_ it!

“Him,” he repeated, louder, closing his eyes in resignation. He hated himself. He hated himself _so much._ He couldn’t bear it, now, to see the horror in his friend’s face, or to see the face Satsuki would make as she was flooded with relief, even against her values and judgement. Hide couldn’t do this.

Knife. Knife. Now would be a really good time to use that _knife,_ Hide!

“Well, let’s get a good spot.”

What? _WHAT?_

The gunman grabbed Hide by the hair and held him upright, dragging him closer to Takashi. The gunman shifted the gun, now pressing it to Takashi’s head instead, holding their faces barely a foot apart.

Shit. This wasn’t part of Hide’s plan. Shit, shit.

“Now, watch this closely.”

Takashi’s eyes focused on the gunman’s face, and then on Hide’s. What was he meant to do? Smile? Cry, ‘I have a plan, young one!’ No! What the fuck was Hide going to do? How long would the gunman pause? He had milliseconds—screw planning! He shoved his good hand through his pockets and looked for that shitty knife Kaneki had thrown at him. God, where was it?

Crap, where was the knife? Hide dug through his pockets desperately, trying to get to it. Quick, he needed that thing. He needed that thing _now._

The hilt was surprisingly warm to the touch as Hide grabbed it. Hide stared into Takashi’s terrified eyes, and ripped it from his pocket.

He stabbed it into the gunman’s leg.

The gunman threw Hide down, swearing and stumbling back, breaking the contact between the gun and Takashi’s head. Aw shit, Hide was going to die.

Damn.

“Run!” Hide screamed when neither of them moved. His adrenaline was roaring, everything moving so fast Hide couldn’t even feel the pain in his leg or his hand. “Fucking run for it!”

Hide, who had been so focused on Takashi moving, neglected to see that the gunman had ripped the knife from his leg, taken aim, and shot Satsuki in the head.

Hide didn’t even hear it.

Every memory from moments before, of Satsuki with a perfect, intact skull, seemed to disappear from memory. God, Hide couldn’t even remember what it looked like for her to be alive. Every instant before that bullet wound had buried into her skull, so petite, so concise through the elongated nozzle of the gun, seemed to cease to exist, as if Satsuki had always been dead.

As if she had never even been there.

Takashi was yelling, but Hide couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything. His ears had ceased working, and he was left seeing the scene he had dreaded and convinced himself would not occur.

Wordlessly, the gunman moved onto Takashi. Why wasn’t Takashi _moving_? Why wasn’t anyone _running?_ Damn, they were all going to die and—

Oh shit.

Hide watched Takashi’s now-dead body fall.

_Oh shit._

So now it was his turn, huh? Hide felt like laughing. God, what the fuck did he do now? What the fuck did he do? Takashi’s face was picture-perfect, framed and frozen at the exact second where he had seen the bullet coming; eyes wide, empty, mouth parted slightly, his face completely white. Shit, what was happening?

Who’s fault at this been?

Not a metre away, Satsuki lay fallen, similarly limp. Her face was pressed into the ground, blood pooling around her head as her dark hair fell over her face. It was almost poetic the way Hide saw only the ruby-red drops of blood hanging on the edges of her false eyelashes, the rest obscured by her hair which had been, until that moment, perfectly styled.

Was this Hide’s fault?

Good old Grim Reaper, standing above him with a gun pressed to his head. A face Hide had never met, never really wanted to meet, and sort of didn’t want to meet again. Huh. It was kind of funny, really. The whole death thing.

Damn, Hide was so screwed.

_“Look after number one.”_

Hide dove to the side, a fraction of a second too late to avoid being hit. The bullet scraped along the left side of his head, burning and tearing through layers and layers of skin. Shit!

White-hot pain shot across his vision. Hide clawed at his head, trying to desperately press down the layer of flesh that had been torn up, as if he could compress it down to stop the bleeding. He could feel the familiar warmth of blood pouring down over his face, and down the back of his neck.

Any second now, he’d be shot. Hide pressed his eyes shut. He didn’t want this. Fuck, how bad could he fail? All he’d wanted to do was come to this city! Shit, shit, shit. What had he done wrong? Why did Satsuki had Takashi have to _die?_

Hide waited for the shot. He waited for it. He wondered how death would feel. He wondered if his mother would be disappointed in him, if his father would be able to function. He wondered how the city would inhale and exhale his death. He wondered if he should have chased after Kaneki back then and told him that Hide didn’t _care_ and he wondered . . .

_I’m so sorry,_ he wanted to tell them, he wanted to tell it to Takashi’s and Satsuki’s living faces. Shit, if he only he could rewind time and go back even ten minutes. Shit. Just ten minutes would be enough. Just ten. Just five. Just one minute, to before they were dead. Hide would think of something!

Hide couldn’t go back in time, and he knew it.

Fuck! He wanted to scream, just shoot me already!

“—de,” someone was saying. “ _Hide.”_

His eyes shot open, and he was staring at a familiar face. A face with bright white hair and wide, terrified eyes. One shone white and grey, the other’s scalera was stained black. Shit, was this death? Was this what he would see when he died?

“Hide, Hide calm down,” Kaneki was saying. “Calm down!”

Hide realised he was propped against the wall, letting him see out further to the real scene of the disaster: two bodies were visible. The two he had not wanted to see.

So Hide hadn’t died?

What a dealbreaker.

“Hide!”

Kaneki grabbed him by the shoulders, squeezing hard. Hide saw the washed-out trails of blood on the other man’s face. Studied the way lashes drooped under rainwater, the way his hair was stuck down again. Spring showers. Spring showers.

Spring showers and _his friends were—_

“Hide, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s over, Hide. You’re safe. The CCG are coming. They’ll be here any minute. So please, calm down.”

There seemed to be a disjointed connection between Kaneki’s words and the movement of his mouth. Hide felt like someone was covering his ears, crushing his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _breathe._

Kaneki was such a liar.

Hide wasn’t okay.

Kaneki was here, and Hide couldn’t feel anything. His friends were dead, and Hide couldn’t feel anything. He was alive and he couldn’t feel anything. Everything was such a mess that it was seeping out the wounds in his flesh before he had time to realise what they were. They were bleeding out. If they kept bleeding, he’d have nothing left.

He’d just be one of those dead bodies.

Kaneki cupped Hide’s face in his hands, uncaring about the state of the other boy. Warm hands. Living hands. Wet with rain and blood, but they were alive. _Alive._

But his friends weren’t.

“Hide, don’t look at them.” Kaneki steered Hide’s eyes back to his own. “You’re okay, all right? You’re safe now. It’s fine.”

Hide wanted to speak. God, he wanted to scream. There was so much he wanted to say and he was drowning in his inabilities. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even save his friends. Shit.

Shit.

Kaneki took Hide’s uninjured hand and held it to his chest. “You’re hyperventilating,” Kaneki told him, unfathomably calm. “It’s fine. You’re in shock. You feel that? It’s a heartbeat. It’s mine. It won’t stop, I promise you. Yours won’t stop either, okay? We’re both alive. You’re safe, okay? You’re safe now. Just breathe with me. In and out.”

Despite himself, Hide followed his instructions.

“That’s good,” Kaneki said encouragingly. “Really good. Keep going. Any minute now, the CCG will be here. I can hear them coming. They’ll get you out of here, so just hang on until then. Stay with me, okay? You’re okay.”

Hide watched as Kaneki glanced over his shoulder. Slowly, feeling was starting to come into his fingertips, where they were pressed against the fabric of Kaneki’s jumper. Warm. Alive.

Hide’s body would keep going. He’d keep going and hurting and bleeding where the other’s weren’t like a huge fucking punch in the face. Shit. _Shit._ Hide had screwed up. He’d screwed up, and his friends were _dead._

“Don’t think about it,” Kaneki said softly, glancing down at Hide’s bleeding leg. When he looked up, Hide saw the darkness around his eyes, the redness to his waterlines. His non-dyed eye was red and irritated. Kaneki’s whole face looked taught and ill. “Just breathe,” Kaneki told him. “It’s fine. You did great.”

_You did great._

Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bull _shit._

How was Kaneki so calm? How the fuck was he so calm? Did nothing that had happened affect him at all? Of course it didn’t! Kaneki had never even met them! Why would Kaneki care about them? Kaneki probably . . .

Hide didn’t know what ‘Kaneki probably’ did. He didn’t know anything at all.

“You’re going to be okay now,” Kaneki told him, lifting Hide’s hair off his face and pushing it back. Everything was gentle, as if he were afraid to touch the wounded. “The CCG are here. They’ll take you to the hospital. No one else will hurt you, Hide. You’re okay.”

Everything Hide had ever wanted to say to Kaneki was there, sitting on his tongue, and dying. He watched Kaneki detach himself, watched the boy slip away.

Then he saw Akira, Amon, Seidou, and probably twenty other CCG officers come sprinting towards him, flanked by the police. They were here. They were here, like Kaneki had said. Oh, God. They were here.

Hide blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I have any words of comfort. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I promise you the next chapter will be up ASAP!


	26. Requited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis????? angst???? fluff???? shippinggggg???? 
> 
> i have no idea pls read and mayb enjoy more coming soon ily all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been awake for 22 hours help
> 
> also, have some happiness. i think thats good from memory like i wouldnt know at this stage but i think it is so pls have some
> 
> actually beta'd this time yea （●´∀｀）ノ

_“In the early hours of the morning, three university students were involved in a mugging that turned fatal. Of the three involved with a lone gunman, suspected to be part of Aogiri’s illicit gang scene, only one survived the ordeal. Currently in a stable condition in Tokyo Hospital, it’s unknown who called the police and the CCG to the scene. Furthermore . . .”_

Where was he?

Slowly, Hide became aware that he was awake. He could hear something going on in the distance, someone talking distantly, like a television. There was also a rhythmic beeping sound, and the feeling of something pressing onto his face. The world seemed a ways of typical of the amniotic state of rising he was accustomed to.

He tried to shift over, to roll under the covers of the duvet, but found himself unable to. That was weird.

Cracking open an eye, he realised he wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t anywhere he had ever been. The ceiling was white-washed, the lights industrial and blinding, and he could see the top of a parting curtain in the corner of his vision. That was weird. Where was he, anyway?

The air he was breathing was icy cold, Hide realised, and somewhat metallic smelling. Was he wearing a gas mask? He raised a hand to lift it, and found his right hand in a cast. He couldn’t move his fingers very well. Wow. That was _so_ weird. Did he need that to get checked out? He should go to a hospital.

He reached down to prod the thing on his face: an oxygen mask.

Why would there be an oxygen mask on his face . . . ? Oh shit.

_Rain, rain, rain. A drop of blood on the end of her fake eyelashes, a petite hole through their skull. So much blood. His leg ached, his hand burned, he’d been—_

He was in a hospital. _He was in a hospital._ Last night—that thing that had happened—oh shit. _Oh shit._

Hide felt a weight crush his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs. The tranquillity he’d felt in confusion went up in smoke, and reality hit him with icy sharpness in the fucking face. God _damn._ Shit. Shit shit.

What was he meant to do?

* * *

 

Kaneki hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

He’d meant to stay awake, keep vigil, make sure Kimi gave him the thumbs-up every time she came by that he was allowed to stick around, that Hide’s family hadn’t arrived yet. He’d meant to monitor the machines, watch Hide’s condition, make sure his fragile little heart didn’t stop for no reason. He’d meant to.

But he didn’t.

His eyes flew open as he heard the rhythmic beeping of the heart-rate monitor skyrocket. Shit, what was happening.

Hide. Hide was having another panic attack.

Kaneki jumped to his feet, trying to manoeuver around the tubes and wires that were keeping Hide afloat. Fuck, Kaneki thought to himself, this was _his_ fault. If he’d been sensible, if he’d been _rational—_

_Shut up!_ He told himself, leaning over Hide’s face, trying to get his attention. _This is no time to be worrying about your own petty issues!_

“Hide,” Kaneki said, trying to make himself sound as calm as possible. “Hide, can you hear me? It’s fine. You’re safe.”

God, Kaneki sounded pathetic. Nothing was changing. He shook his glasses of casting them aside. “It’s me, see? It’s Kaneki. You’re okay. You’re okay, Hide.”

Hide’s normally warm eyes were wide and glowing in an all-too familiar shellshock kind of way. Kaneki could all but see the cogs in his mind whirring, faltering, trying to comprehend what had happened. Last time, Kaneki had used that shitty technique he read in a book to clam Hide down, but he doubted that would work this time. No, Hide needed something simple and easy to understand, because right now, it was written on Hide’s face what he was really breaking down about:

His friends.

Kaneki didn’t know whether it was a bad idea to keep the oxygen mask on or not, but he didn’t care. He pulled it off Hide’s mouth, trying to let the boy breathe the real air. He took Hide’s wounded arm and held it, grabbing the other one.

“You can calm down,” he said. “It’s okay now. It’s over, Hide. You’re in a hospital. You were patched up. Everything happened last night, and it’s midday now.”

Kaneki had no idea what the fuck to do. The spastic beeping of the machine was starting to slow, so maybe talking helped. What had the book said? Slow, simple sentences. Assure the person they’re having a panic attack, and that’s all it is.

Who was the book to say that was all Hide was experiencing? Shit.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Kaneki continued. “You need to calm down. You can do that. You’re doing great.” He wondered if Hide could feel his hands shaking. Maybe Hide’s hands were shaking. Maybe they were both shaking. Kaneki didn’t know what to do, here. He knew it was his fault, he knew he should have been there, so he damn well knew he was going to be here _now,_ but what was he meant to do? Hide needed a nurse. He needed a real, proper nurse that knew how to keep him safe and tell him to breathe and god knows what else. He needed someone better than Kaneki.

“Focus on breathing,” Kaneki said, trying to sound the least positive. “Just in and out. You know how it goes. You’re going to be okay. The nurses will come, they’ll patch you up some more, say nice things, leave flowers, give you bad food . . .” Kaneki was rambling. He had too many things to say that meant too little. The heart-rate was going down, and he could still see Hide breathing. Good. That was good, right? The book said that was good. Fuck, Kaneki was normally more in control than this. What did Kaneki tell himself when he had a panic attack? He didn’t even know.

“It’ll be fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. The hospital is fine. You’re not badly injured, either. Nothing bad. You’ll be back on your feet in a few weeks. You got all your hands, all your feet, fingers, toes, you name it. They’re all there. You’re fine now. You’re okay,” Kaneki repeated. “You’re okay, Hide. It’s not your fault. _Nothing_ is your fault.”

“You’re . . . terrible at this,” Hide wheezed. Kaneki could only stare as the ever-present smile stitched itself onto Hide’s face, one millimetre at a time.

Kaneki regarded the man beneath him: pale, sickly, with bandages around his head from where they’d stitched up the nasty wound. His face was bruised all over from the ordeal, red impression lines from where the oxygen mask had pressed into his skin. He stunk of blood, drain-water and alcohol swabs, but Kaneki had never been more thankful to look at someone’s _living_ face.

Kaneki placed Hide’s hands down on the boy’s chest, gently squeezing them. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted. He looked at the scabs, the cuts, the plastic cast around Hide’s right and the dressings under which would be stitches where they had dug the glass out of his palm.

“I’m sorry,” Kaneki whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault. I should never have said those things to you, Hide. I was . . . it’s my fault. I was selfish and stupid and I left you alone, and they came after you, and . . . I’m so sorry.”

Sometimes Kaneki wished he could cry.

Because he couldn’t.

When he received no response, Kaneki closed his eyes, silently accepting his fate. It was understandable. Acceptable. Kind, even, that Hide had tolerated his very presence. Slowly, he detached himself from the other and stood, tugging on the strings of his medical eye-patch, woven under the frames of his glasses.

“Your parents will be here soon,” he said to the sheets. “The nurses came and told me. Visiting hours don’t start for a while, but . . . yeah. They’re on the first train. The CCG aren’t allowed to talk to you until you’ve seen direct relations, so . . . yeah.”

_Leave. Leave, Kaneki._ Leave.

“I’ll . . . I stayed to make sure you were okay, but I’ll leave now,” he said, at last looking up to Hide’s face.

The words died in his throat.

Hide had covered his face with his hand, only his smile, which had turned into a grimace, showing. “Hey, Kaneki,” Hide said slowly, “the others, they’re . . . are they okay?”

Kaneki hated himself for answering so calmly. “No.”

“Oh, okay,” Hide said quickly. “It’s fine, I just wanted to know. I guess . . . well, I already knew the answer, so I just . . .”

_It’s fine, it’s normal, don’t worry about it._ Kaneki wanted to spew words of encouragement, to assure Hide in even the slightest way that it wasn’t his fault, that there was no shame in asking—anything to make Hide feel better.

But he couldn’t say them.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I’m so sorry.”

He should really leave. He’d overstayed his welcome. People needed time alone with grief, right? He should leave. He shouldn’t stay. Hide wouldn’t want him around, because it had been Kaneki’s fault, after all. He shouldn’t stay. If he wanted to protect them, he had to leave, right? That was how it worked. That was how it had always worked, right?

“I don’t hate you, Kaneki,” Hide said, still hiding his eyes. His voice was thin and raspy, but it drowned out the noise of the equipment. “I kind of want to, but . . . that’s really dumb, isn’t it? Because now, I don’t want to lose you either.”

_I don’t hate you._

_I don’t want to lose you._

“But you said so yourself, didn’t you? That you couldn’t do the whole affection gig? Sorry for putting that on you, man. I’m probably a real bother, aren’t I?”

_You aren’t a bother. You aren’t a bother. You aren’t a bother. Please, don’t think you’re a bother._

Hide lowered his hand, forcing a smile. His eyes were wet, but his face was dry.

“It’s fine. You can leave, I’m sor—”

“Remember when you shouted over the fence that you liked me?” Kaneki cut him off, glaring at the toes of his shoes. “At that time, I didn’t really know who you were at all, but I was just . . . I was scared. Of you. Of me. The whole summary of my life was terrible, and your addition to it was terrifying. So I ignored you.” Ah, shit, Kaneki thought. He had to stop Hide thinking those lines. He had to cut him off somehow, and the first bitterly ironic thing that came to mind was honesty. What a joke.

“I thought that if I pretended I never heard it, you’d go away. That’s what I thought. We were just passing acquaintances, Kaneki and you. I wanted you to know Sasaki. I wanted Sasaki to be liked, but . . . I guess we ran out of time for that.”

He had more to say. Had talking always been this hard? Was honesty a difficult thing? He’d forgotten it had been so long since he’d used it. Kaneki clenched his fist to keep his hands from shaking. He hadn’t tried to hide the state of his nails. Crap. The scars on his hands were everywhere, despite the glasses, which now lay on the ground somewhere, and the eye-patch, to hide the blank ink filling his eyeball, and the makeup to hide his skin and the beanie to hide his hair and the scarf to hide his neck and everything to hide the sheer _Kaneki_ ness. Like a weed, it came through the cracks when neglected.

“In the club, you said it again. God, that was so long ago, wasn’t it? I was so pathetic. All I said was ‘thank you’. I regret that, you know? I regret it a lot. I wanted to tell you that you had so many options and so many better ways to go than dodgy nightclubs and dangerous people, because you do. You always will. But I was so selfish at the time, because I liked being told by someone that I was worth something to them. How shallow is that?”

Shit, he was saying too much. He’d just meant to say sorry about it, not pour out his thoughts and regrets like a fucking dying priest. Fuck it. He’d fuck it all up thoroughly until it was done and Hide was over this whole thing. He’d been up for twenty days consecutively until he’d dozed off a few minutes ago, so he might as well blame it on that, the recklessness, the honesty, the sheer monumental fuck-up that was everything that had ever happened in the twenty years of Kaneki Ken.

Weird, how he’d never told anyone that full horror story.

“But then I was stupid. I make the same mistakes over and over, Hide. People die left, right and centre around me, because of my mistakes. I thought you’d be fine if I left you alone. When you found me again, out of nowhere, I had no idea what to do. So I did what I was used to: saying terrible things and doing terrible things until I was certain you hated me.”

“Well, you were wrong.”

Kaneki jumped, so entranced in his own little bubble he hadn’t even felt Hide’s glare. “You’re _wrong,_ Kaneki Ken, because I’m actually really dumb and . . . fuck, I don’t even know. Just . . . don’t do it again, okay? Don’t run off and do your thing and leave me back here. You know, like, rabbits can die when they get too lonely? I couldn’t even talk to my roommate, dude, and now . . . aw, crap. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start slobbering like an idiot.” Hide wiped at his mouth with the sheet. “Ew.”

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry that all I’m good at is running away._

“It’s the anaesthesia,” Kaneki said. “It can screw up your mouth. It makes you drool a lot.”

“No shit. So gross.”

“I should go,” Kaneki said quietly. God, had he even listened to a word Hide said? “I really should. I . . .”

“Don’t.” Hide’s expression was dangerously fragile. “Don’t go.”

_“You can always stay here. Anteiku will always welcome you back. Whenever you are in need, come back.”_

No one needed Kaneki. He was sure. He’d been sure since the day he realised his mother was stressed because of him. He’d been sure since forever. He’d been sure when his mother screamed and raved, when his uncle hit, when angry dealers weren’t pleased. He’d been sure when Kanou wanted him to be destroyed, when Yamori had punished him for trying to escape.

He’d been sure when he had delivered Ayato home to Touka. He’d been sure when Hinami had gotten a scholarship to school that took her away from all of them. No one really needed him at all.

Until now.

He should leave. He should do what he was best at and turn tail and run. He was _so_ good at that. He ran from his aunt, from Jason, from Kanou, from Hide, from every single thing in his life. He should keep doing it. Even if it was insane, it couldn’t be worse than him, right?

He should. He _should._

He didn’t want to.

“Okay,” Kaneki said. “I’ll stay . . . a bit.”

* * *

 

Kimi did her routine check-up on the sleeping patient at 2:30PM, just before the his parents came in to see how their son was doing. It was mandatory to make sure the room was cleared of anything potentially bio-hazardous to non-patients.

It was also her cue to tell Kaneki to get the fuck out.

“Kaneki,” she hissed, shaking the white-haired boy’s shoulder. “Oi, wake up!”

Kimi had heard many things about Kaneki, but she had never expected him to be staring back at her, bleary-eyed and confused. His glasses, sitting over his covered eye, were askew, along with hair that had become pressed to his cheek under his beanie.

She was going to tell Nishio _all_ about that.

“You have to leave,” she told him. “His parents are here.”

That snapped him into action. “Shit,” he whispered, grabbing his coat. “Thank you.”

Kimi gave him a quick smile, hearing people come rushing down the hallway. “Come back anytime. Now, quick! Leave!” She hurried out of the room, ready to meet the panicked parents.

When she glanced back into the room, she saw the far window open, and the patient, Nagachika Hideyoshi, now with a grey beanie on his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my hc is that Kimi is actually an internal giant sass queen im not even sorry
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone who responded to the last chapter!! ヾ(●ε●)ノ Mwah have a blown kiss i don't even care if that makes u squeamish ACCEPT MY LOVE PLS. You guys are the absolute best and you all deserve to know it! Seriously, you guys are the reason I write this story at all, and the fact that I had comments and kudos and attention and aarghdguysjhgcabsdhc i love you thank you all SO MUCH. Like, why are there not more words to express gratitude in the english language?????? why?????? help
> 
> Thank you all so much again! New chapter soon probably!


	27. Reverence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mamachika stresses a lot pls enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! It's me again, back with some more stuff! Please enjoy this (somewhat filler) chapter!~

“ . . . pay this,” someone was saying. It was a familiar voice, Hide knew it well, but at that point in tie he couldn’t attach a face to the sound. It was familiar. It was safe. “We can’t afford this, Kousuke.”

“We’ll find a way,” said someone else. It was a gruff, older voice. Masculine, deep. It was the same safe-sounding voice Hide was sure of. He knew the voices, but in his sleep-addled mind nothing seemed to mesh, and he was left listening to everything they said. “We don’t have to resort to that yet.”

“It’s the best option,” the woman insisted.

“It’ll ruin his future _and_ your future, Yoko,” the man said, equally as insistent. “You know how the Washuu are.”

“I know, I know, Kousuke, but we really don’t have the funds that cover this. Even if we gathered it from everywhere—which we can’t do—it’s still not enough. That, and the fact that I’m on any security camera here means they’ve probably already found me. We should . . . don’t look at me that way, Kousuke. I don’t like it either.”

“You know there has to be other options,” said the man, sombre. “You can’t just take this all on your own.”

“They won’t hurt him,” she said, “he’ll be safe, but—”

“If they’re going to make him like _them,_ then that’s enough reason to not do this.”

“Hide’s smart, they won’t dare try to—”

“Yoko, you said yourself how bad they were. You _know_ they’re going to . . . they’re going to turn him into a machine! We can still do this on our own. There’s still hope.”

“I know, Kousuke, I know, but . . . let’s be rational, okay? We can go to them, or they can come to us. Either way, we’ll . . . the bill is huge, all right? It’s not something we can deal with.”

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

* * *

 

Nagachika Yoko spent the day quietly stressed about her son’s future. She’d sat herself down in the uncomfortable chair, on her son’s left side, as the fool slept, still wearing off the meds they’d used to stabilise his condition. Someone had left him a beanie, so maybe one his friends had come by earlier in the day, despite the staff telling him no one else had been allowed to visit.

Yoko wasn’t fooled.

She knew how much hospital care cost. To cover the emergency services, the treatment, the days Hide would spend in hospital, they needed a lot more money than rice farmers could get in the early spring, right after months of little crops. She doubted Hide had enough savings to pay for it on his own, and even if they amassed Nagachika funds, any extended care would be beyond their payment.

She prayed that her genes and Hide’s intelligence would mean that the therapy costs would be lower. God, that was so morbid. She had to stop being like that—like _them._

Ironic, because she’d ben turning to them for help any minute. As soon as she’d been registered as coming into the hospital, as soon as a city security camera had found her, she knew their software would be _all over_ her. She’d be found out instantly, and her only option left was to hand over her son.

“Hide,” she sighed, “what have you done?”

* * *

 

_“It’s her.”_

_“What’s she doing in the city? Why has she appeared now?”_

_“She’s visiting her son. He was caught up in the business last night.”_

_“Her son? She has a son?”_

_“With some country nobody.”_

_“Damn that woman. She has a plan, and you know it.”_

* * *

 

How long had it been since Kaneki came back?

He spent an embarrassingly long time standing in front of the apartment door, realising that every grain in the wood and scratch on the door had become alien to him, as if he had never bothered to look.

He hadn’t.

If he entered now, everyone would be there. Everyone would see him. Everyone consisting of two people: Touka and Ayato. Two people whom he had known for years, who meant a lot to him, whom he had only wanted the best for. People who would grow out of this stage in their lives when they lived together. People who didn’t need him.

He’d been running away from this for a while, hadn’t he? Actually taking them seriously, actually making eye-contact, actually doing anything that mattered around them. He’d been avoiding it, because until that moment he hadn’t really thought that it would come. If it had gone to plan, if everything had gone to plan then . . .

If everything had gone to plan, then Hide would be dead too.

Kaneki sighed quietly, unlocking the apartment door and entering. This was something he had to face, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been here for a week or two, but . . . he had to stop running away, because someone—someone who Kaneki had given ever reason to hate him—wanted him to stay.

He was so hopeless.

The apartment was quiet, which Kaneki was grateful for. He closed and locked the door behind him, slipped off his shoes, and crept towards the kitchen. Eating wasn’t exactly preferable, but he needed to eat _something._

What a laugh, Kaneki Ken. What a laugh.

“Ayato, stop being a creep and—” Touka burst out of her bedroom, pulling a jumper over her head. “I’ll—oh.”

_Oh._

Kaneki was used to the many faces of Kirishima Touka, but he was becoming more distant with what they meant. As Rabbit, she was strong and quick, as Touka she was sharp and restless, and as everything in between she was the never-faltering image of stability that Kaneki had unknowingly come to rely on.

He wondered if she knew that.

“H-Hi, Touka,” Kaneki stammered. “Uh, s-sorry I’ve not been in lately, I guess . . .”

Touka had never been one of restraint, but she did not move. “It’s fine. Have you been well? I mean, you look like death, but . . .” her voice drifted. “I’m making coffee. Do you want any?”

“Y-yes, please,” Kaneki said. “I was in this morning, but no one was here.”

Touka nodded. “Working. I got home at around seven.” He watched her mechanically grind the beans, every actioned ingrained into her flesh and blood. “I thought you might have. Were you there last night for the . . . thing?”

Kaneki shook his head. “No, I came at the end, but the other two were already dead.”

“Oh. That’s . . . a shame.”

Was it? Kaneki didn’t even know at this stage. He was so lucky, so goddamn lucky, to get there in time. He didn’t know nor really care about the fate of the others, but maybe it was. Maybe, if Kaneki decided to try the whole extended ‘empathy’ thing again, he’d understand how important and precious individual, seemingly disconnected people were to the entire world.

At his silence, Touka gave him a quick glance as she poured the boiing water through the grounds, the pot beginning to fill with the rich brown liquid. “It _is_ a shame, Kaneki. It really is. I know you probably don’t really care, and hell, maybe no one should, but they weren’t involved in our world.”

_They weren’t involved in our world._

“Chance can be cruel,” Kaneki said quietly.

“ _Everything_ can be cruel, dumbass.” Touka put down the kettle and removed the filter, before digging through the cupboard for some clean mugs. “There’s potential everywhere.”

“I feel like this is another ‘get well soon, Kaneki’ talk.”

“Every talk with you is a ‘get well soon, Kaneki’ talk,” Touka quipped, putting down the steaming mug of coffee. “I mean, if I try for long enough maybe we’ll have a breakthrough. Hell, maybe those smoke-rotted, atrophied facial muscles of yours will work and we’ll see a smile for a change.”

Despite himself, Kaneki felt his lips curl into a smile. Touka gave him her usual slight one, blowing on her drink. “I think he’s worth it.”

“What?”

“The Hide guy,” she elaborated. “I think he’s worth it. You should try. Show him your cards. Do your thing. If he hasn’t told you to go jump off a building and you listened, then he can’t be that bad.”

“That was a really bad joke,” Kaneki said, but his mind seemed to be sinking. Her suggestion was like quicksand, dragging him down. He could. He could do it, but at what cost? He could try and have a thing with Hide, but he doubted Hide would only be receiving a bundle of negatives, as if he would stain Hide, as if he would suck away the Hide from Hide. That was what Kaneki did. Suck the joy and life out of people until they were emptier than himself. He was sure.

That’s why he didn’t do anything of the sort.

“It’s what you’ve been doing for years, Kaneki. Don’t try and lie to me.”

Arguing with Touka was useless.

“He’s only known the made-up version.”

“The guy fucking watched you _working_ and didn’t even _think_ about selling you out!” Touka slammed her palm on the table. “Get it through your head, man! Remember that whole stunt with him a few weeks ago? Yeah, the one where you, Ayato and Tsukiyama fucking killed a whole gang—which was _not_ smart, by the way—he didn’t sell you out then, despite working at the CCG!”

“I was pretty coherent during all of this.”

Touka put down her cup, rubbing her eyes. “If you wait too long, people will leave. They’ll think you’ve already left!”

“Good.”

“ _Bad.”_ Touka jabbed a finger in his direction angrily. “Very bad.”

“I don’t see how it would go anywhere,” Kaneki admitted. “Look at me. I’ve not slept in—”

“About an hour. You’ve got a great bedhead.”

Kaneki regarded the steel in her face, the strong set of her jaw. Touka, when she needed to be, could be stubborn. Now was apparently one of those times, but Kaneki could be wrong.

“I fell asleep at the hospital.”

“You went to the _hospital?_ ”

Touka grabbed him by the shoulders, eyes wide. “Did you _actually_ go to the hospital to see him? Are you shitting me?”

“I went, but I left because his parents got there. I asked Kimi to watch for me, so . . .”

Touka sat back, pressing a palm to her forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”

Kaneki, not knowing what to say, sipped his drink in silence. At that time, he’d watched from the roof of the building as his friends got Hide treated and set on a stretcher and sprinted off to the hospital. At that stage, one of them—the other boy—had still been alive, and they’d to resuscitate him unsuccessfully. He was also sprinted off to hospital in an ambulance under the pretext of trying to save him.

But Kaneki knew a fatal wound when he saw one.

The girl was already dead. She, her dead body and belongings were all collected as evidence, and the killer’s corpse was also taken away. Kaneki didn’t even know who it was. The police had come and forensically analysed the place, left markers and tapes and taken samples of the blood. Kaneki had watched them for a long time, until the scene had quietened down, the area was taped off, and the night guard stood at bay.

It was disturbingly orderly.

“Earth to Kaneki, hey!” Touka tapped the lip of his mug. “Stop spacing out. Did you talk at all in the hospital? How did he react? Also, what’s with the patch?”

Kaneki lifted it off easily. “Uta. And, well . . . we talked, I guess . . .”

“Did he tell you to ‘please leave’, or that he ‘hated you’, or that he ‘wanted to kill you’?”

“No.”

“Then he must really, _really_ like you.”

“But I’m the _reason_ they’re dead, Touka,” Kaneki stared up at her. “It’s my fault. If I didn’t know Hide—if Kanou didn’t know me—if Hide hadn’t come here, then . . . it’s my fault. It’s completely my fault because Hide got caught up in the shit that I cause. It’s definitely my fault.”

“Kaneki, did you shoot his friends in the head?” Touka had the patience of a saint, sometimes. Kaneki picked at his eye-patch, before pulling it off.

“No.”

“Then it’s not your fault,” she said simply, standing. “It was never your intention to kill them, and everyone knows it. I think even he knows it. And if he doesn’t hate you, then he’s going to need you, now.” She rinsed off her mug in the sink. “Don’t sell yourself short. Hide may only know the whole ‘Haise’ part, but at least he’s giving the ‘Kaneki’ part a chance.”

Kaneki knew it wasn’t that simple. He was so certain it was his fault, so responsible for the pain Hide had felt that it could have been him, pulling the trigger. It could have been him, holding three kids hostage.

It had been, in the past.

He’d also been the one shot in the head. He’d also been the one left alive.

“Go and fucking see him again. Kimi works the graveyard shift tomorrow as well, Kaneki. If you don’t go, _I_ will go, and that will end it a beautiful shitstorm for everyone to deal with, okay?”

“Okay,” Kaneki said. “But . . . it’s not . . .”

“I’ll do your makeup,” she said. “You tried real hard, kid, but it’s sub-par at best. I’ll even do your neck for you, so you can dress normally for a change.”

“You’re going to get up early? No—you work on Sundays, don’t you? You can’t—”

“I can, and I will. Shut up and deal with it. Let me look after you for a bit, okay? We have to get you spick and spam for this date night.”

“It’s not a date, Touka, his friends are—”

“ _Date,”_ Touka insisted. “Come on, do the embarrassed thing. Lighten up.”

Kaneki stared into his coffee. “Fine,” he said. “But first I have to see Uta. We have to do some digging.”

“How many?”

“I’d say three,” Kaneki said. “Not bad, but they’re annoying. If I leave them too long we’ll have to get rid of the whole thing. Also, the eye needs to go.”

“Damn, I thought you looked a little _devilishly handsome,_ if I may.”

“Touka, no.”

“Touka, _yes.”_

Kaneki sighed into his drink, bringing it to his lips. It was pretty fucked, wasn’t it, how he was planning to take advantage of this? It made him terrible, he was sure. Maybe it was worth it, the whole empathy thing. He should try doing that again, even if he didn’t enjoy it.

Touka, even if she didn’t need him, was going to help him.

And Thank God, because he needed Touka.

* * *

 

“Hide,” Yoko said solemnly, composing herself after the outburst. “Remember the letter I gave you? You’re going to need that.”

“Why?”

Yoko shook her head. “Have someone get it for you, because it is of the utmost importance that you have it by the time the CCG come for you.”

“Didn’t you say to only use that when—”

“When you were in the shit, and the Nagachika power wasn’t enough to help you,” she affirmed. “Like I said, you need it, because the Washuu are coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you who made it to the end - great job! I didn't beta that at all. I need to.  
> I need to do a lot of that. I'm sorry.
> 
> (ahahahahaha who else enjoyed the spoilers for 83 today? ahahahahaha NOT ME //cries).
> 
> Thank you to every single beautiful organism that took time out of their day to read this! I hope you all enjoy it, and keep enjoying it! ^.^


	28. East of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hide feels sad, kimi is a QUEEN, the hat fairy is magical, and uncles are scary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!
> 
> Thank you as always to the wonderful response to the last chapter! I hope you guys all enjoy this one too!
> 
> I also beta'd this thoroughly. I am pleased.

_“One may take the man from Hell, but nothing can take Hell from the man_.” When he was in high school, Hide had read that line in a book that required an analysis. Over time, the memories of the book had faded, but he remembered them now. Selfishly, obsessively, he remembered the book. He’d had on his brave face, but when visiting hours ended and his parents reluctantly left, he’d been put to bed with a fresh dose of meds to his IV and a change of dressings.

The lights had dimmed, and it was time to sleep and tick away some hours so the staff could have a coffee. That’s what Hide had been; a constant clock, ticking away minute. Another minute closer to solitude, he told himself to keep going. Then, when he was alone, he could focus on how horrible he felt.

The phenomena was called ‘Survivor’s Guilt’, and Hide had no qualms about its naming. Initial gratitude for everything began to fade when he realised it was something he was feeling that the others weren’t. He was so busy feeling sorry for himself when he was sure that, if it had been anyone else, they would have had some euphoric Eureka moment and dedicated their life to good causes overnight. Satsuki would have done it. Takashi would have done it.

Meanwhile, Hide just lay in a hospital bed.

If Hide had been faster, if he’d ignored the pain and the fear, if he’d moved knowing that they would _die,_ then surely, surely they would have lived. If he had treated the whole thing _properly,_ then they would have lived. If it had been them in his position, then it would have been so much better. Their grieving families would not grieve, because they would be alive. The distant thought of ‘what if Takashi had been the one alive?’ or, ‘what if nothing had ever happened?’

What if it hadn’t happened? What then?

Hide had never believed in ghosts, but he had a feeling that the weight that seemed to live in his chest would not disappear for a long, long time.

Medically-induced sleep seemed like a great idea, but consciously trying to fall asleep was like _asking_ for the re-evaluation of what had unfolded. If he had done this, or this, or this, or this, or if Hide had been the one that died, then—

The thoughts were pretty toxic, but Hide had no idea how to turn them off.

To top things off, he’d put his parents into financial trouble to pay for this, because his own work hadn’t been enough. Shit. He’d caused so many _problems,_ and all he’d wanted to was to _help them escape._

Rationally, he knew he should be practical, count his lucky stars, stop feeling it. He knew he should.

But he didn’t.

Sighing, Hide considered climbing out of bed and walking around. He had to do something to work off the restless energy he felt. He would, if he was able to. As it was, his leg had been dressed but not properly fixed. Something about waiting a few days before closing the wounds left from bullets, otherwise the damage to the muscle fibres would leave a permanent depression. He was meant to go in and have it properly fixed tomorrow or the day after, huh? Great.

Just great.

Yes, Hide, it _was_ great. He was _alive._ Stop _complaining._

“I wish I had my phone,” he muttered, reaching for the television remote. It was a public room (because who could afford private rooms?) but Hide was the only one occupying it. He turned it on where he could see it on the opposite wall, and flicked through channels to find something interesting.

At eleven thirty at night, there wasn’t a lot. Game shows, news, the 24-hour weather update channel, everything else. Damn, Hide wished he had a phone.

Hide thought of a way out of this.

His mother wouldn’t like it, but Akira had said that joining the CCG would cover his medical _and_ tuition fees. At that stage, it seemed like the best plan. His mother would probably never speak to him again, but . . .

_“The Washuu are coming.”_

Letters, Washuu, CCG, what did it even mean? Why did it mean anything? God, Hide was sick of this. He was surrounded by questions that required _looking_ for answers, but Hide knew that looking for them would only bring trouble on people, and more people would die.

More people.

In the dark, he saw the faces of his friends. Their dead ones, of course, because the fact that they were ever alive seemed too distant to ever understand.

Hospitals were about eating, sleeping, and recovering. The only problem was, the food was terrible, Hide was in no condition to sleep, and he was in no real process of recovery while he waited for the ‘next’ procedure. Fuck it all.

What was the point of anything if everyone else ended up being collateral damage? Hide didn’t _want_ people to be that! He wanted . . . shit, he wanted to be the one who prevented that, not the cause. Fuck.

Hide flicked through channels for a long time before someone came in.

“Hide?”

 _‘Hide’,_ not ‘ _Mr Nagachika’,_ or ‘ _patient’._ It wasn’t an unfamiliar voice at all. It was one he knew very well, despite the fact he hadn’t really spoken to Nishio in a very long time.

“Kimi? You work here?” Hide had known she was a nurse, but the fact that she was working _here_ while Hide was also _here_ to see him in this state was still a surprise. More Happy Hide, then. He gave her a toothy grin that made his throat feel tight. “Hiya!”

“Hide, are you all right? Do you need anything? I can ask for some sleeping pills if you’re having trouble sleeping,” she said gently, walking in. “My shift doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, so if you need anything, I’m free at the moment.”

Hide waved her off, his hand cast making him feel like a walrus. “No biggie, I’m just thinking.”

“Oh, okay,” Kimi said, unconvinced. “Well, there _are_ counsellors here twenty-four-seven, so if you wanted to talk to someone . . . I know it’s not my place to say anything, but if you need someone to talk to, especially after what happened, it’s—”

“Thank you for your concern,” Hide said, as honest as he could, because _it_ was gratitude, just his brain was having trouble understanding that. “But I’m fine. When I’m mobile again, I’ll go talk to someone, but it’s fine for now. I’m just glad I’m here is all.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you, Hide?” Kimi’s eyes were kind and concerned. It fitted her well, being a nurse. She had the right calm, genuine demeanour. It reminded him a bit of Satsuki.

Satsuki.

Hide wanted to throw up.

“No,” he said, smiling. “Well, okay, maybe a bit—but that’s normal, right? So, um . . .” he tugged at the beanie on his head, the beanie Kaneki had decided to leave him. “I know I probably should talk to people during the whole ‘sinking in’ time, but . . . I don’t want to? God, that’s weird. I’m sorry. I’m taking up your time. Don’t worry about me!” he sung the words, but, God, he felt like crap.

Kimi sighed, sitting herself down. Despite in her work clothes, she had an air of relaxation that separated her from working and not-working. She watched him flick through channels absently. “Do you want your phone? We’re not meant to give it to people, but I guess I can, since you’re not in the . . . Mental Ward, for lack of a better term.”

“If you’re in the Crazy Zone you don’t get a phone?”

“Don’t call it the crazy zone!” Kimi pouted. “It’s for people who need to recover just as much as you, _Hide,_ just in a different way. Go down a bad path and you’ll find yourself in there, so be nicer to them. They’re really nice people, mostly.”

Hide felt terrible. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Kimi laughed. “I’m probably too defensive because I’ve been there, I guess.”

“You were in _there_?”

Kimi nodded, smiling gently. “When my family died, it really shook me up. Dark times. I went in there for a week, came out, tried to live my life. Things weren’t looking up, but then I met Nishio and lot of other people, and there’s no real reason to be sad anymore.”

The way she spoke about it so fluently made it blatantly clear she’d spoken about it a lot. It was surprising to Hide because that didn’t seem to fit her image. Quietly strong, Hide realised. She was strong, too.

“Did you know that Nishio was part of GLG?”

“I kind of found out accidently,” she said, her sideways look telling him she knew exactly how he had dodged the subject of Crazy Town. “But I know. I know what he’s done. He’s not a bad person, either. Not many people _are_ inherently bad, you know. That doesn’t mean there aren’t bad people, mind you. There definitely are, but . . . well, I guess that doesn’t defend their actions, right?”

So Nishio was part of GLG. Damn, Hide just couldn’t give investigating a break, huh? Maybe he _should_ join the CCG.

“So, phone or no phone? Remember, that phone will have your text history on it, which means a lot of tears, and I’ll be working in a few.”

“Phone.”

“O-Okay, that was fast.” Kimi stood. “I’ll get it for you. Do you want any meds? Need any toilet assistance? Company?”

Hide shrugged. “I’m pretty good with sitting in the dark with some soulless technology.”

“Not even the Hat Fairy?” Kimi winked at him. “He may come again, you know.”

“Hat Fairy? You’re seriously calling him the Hat Fairy?”

“He comes, he weaves a magical spell, and leaves a hat. Fairy. Magical. He only wanted a few Hide tears! My, magic is so beautiful.”

“Oh my God, Kimi.”

She did a little ballerina spin at the door. “I’ll get that phone so you can scream at Flappy Bird all night instead of me. Have fun!”

* * *

 

“Was that all of them?” Uta washed his hands in the basin. “You said there could be four, but we only found three, so . . .”

“It’s probably enough,” Kaneki admitted. “If there’s any more we’ll see, won’t we?”

Kaneki prodded the bandages around his eye to keep the blood in. he couldn’t go walking around the city looking like he’d lost have his face with the amount of blood that ran down his cheeks. God, when would his eye get used to this?

His legs, on the other hand, were _very_ used to the ordeal. He waited for the skin to knit together, seeing how scabs were already forming and drying. Maybe another hour, then a shower and a change of clothes and he’d be ready to face the world again. Another day, and he could ditch the eye-patch.

He didn’t have time to think about how fucked the whole situation was.

“I wish you’d let me tattoo you,” Uta sighed, sitting himself down. “You have the right skin tone to get a really nice contrast.”

“I’m fine without them,” Kaneki shrugged. “Besides, knowing you, you’d probably drug me or something and then tattoo GLG’s markings literally all over my back.”

Uta grinned, sliding on a pair of small, round glasses. “Well, you aren’t wrong. I can picture it, yeah? Giant, rigid characters like, right in the small of your back? I’d make you a model.”

“I’m a criminal, Uta, not a poser.”

“Why not do both?” Uta looked genuinely interested. “We can airbrush out the bits you don’t want people seeing.”

“No cameras, no tattoos,” Kaneki picked at the scabs idly. They bled under his fingers. Damn, that was a delay. “No nothings. The CCG still doesn’t have a definite picture of me, anyway.”

Uta pouted. “You’re no fun, Kaneki. Itori would so agree with me on this.”

“Yomo would disagree.”

“No, Yomo would sit there with an angry face, stare at his drink, and then mysteriously say, ‘I have no part in this.’”

Kaneki sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So? Let’s gossip.”

Kaneki could have visibly winced. He could have, because it was his least favourite subject.

Wow, he had favourites now?

“Like what? I’m not interested in hearing about your last date.”

“Oh, you should be. She couldn’t even read, Kaneki! I had to take a magazine!”

Kaneki shrugged. “Okay.”

“Your turn,” said Uta, smirking. “What’s this business with you and some other guy?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Uta grinned wider, leaning forward towards the bench Kaneki was sitting on. “You know, little taller than you, blonde hair, recently was _all over_ the news. Itori nearly fainted she talked about it for so long.”

Kaneki tapped his fingers. He didn’t want to talk to Uta about Hide. If Uta knew about Hide, then he could find him. Nishio wouldn’t enjoy Uta being there, but Nishio new the difference in their strengths and would probably accept it. It would endanger Hide more than he already was. Kaneki’s mind whirred, drawing at blanks.

Generic answers were okay, right?

“Yeah, I know him. What about him?” Even saying the words felt terrible. It had felt even worse after Kaneki had taken Touka’s advice and tried to ‘put himself in Hide’s shoes, which drew more memories than he wanted and left him feeling unexpectedly raw, like he’d recently shed a layer of skin.

Like he had something real and important to _hide._

Uta stood, rummaging through the tools on his desk. “So? Does he fuck good?”

Kaneki tried to be embarrassed by the question. He gave it a real good shot, because the whole ‘if he were someone else’ thing was that they’d be embarrassed, but Kaneki actually and honestly had no idea.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No!” Uta looked horrified. “But—but you’re a student, and he’s a student, and you’ve . . .” seeing Kaneki’s placid shrug, Uta slapped his forehead. “You’re killing me.”

“But you’re not dying.”

“I call it my Kaneki power.”

“Shut up.”

Uta chuckled to himself, eventually digging out the item he was looking for: a sketchbook. While most of the pages were filled with designs and drawings, there were spots of writing in there as well. “Touka tells me that Ayato likes art. He’d be a good tattoo artist.”

“He’s already got Aogiri’s mark,” Kaneki said. “The white circle inside a black circle.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. What a coincidence, it’s on the opposite side to Touka, but the same place? That’s pretty cool.”

“It does mean he can never take his shirt of in public, though. And Touka can’t ever wear the fancy no-back dresses, either.”

“Beauty has a price.”

Kaneki disagreed, but his own argument was weak. He had no place to argue it. He had no tattoos. He was not affiliated with any group. He did not really belong anywhere, a floated whose only place of return was the bad apartment in a bad neighbourhood, surrounded by bad things that Ayato was usually the cause of in the early hours of the morning.

In Touka’s words, it was a work in progress.

“What’s your opinion on scarring?” Uta asked, sketching a wide, loose shape in his book. “It’s been pretty popular recently.”

“People can do what they want,” Kaneki said simply. “Not all scars are ugly, I guess.”

Uta pushed down his glasses, giving him a long, unimpressed look. What was he trying to say? Kaneki didn’t know. He shrugged and pulled out his phone. Just a little longer, and he could leave the stiff, invasive atmosphere of Uta’s studio.

It was always in here, the most hygienic and sanitised room, that Kaneki would offer up a limb filled with bullets and Uta would expertly handle a scalpel and cut them out, stitch up the right layers of tissue and skin, and then leave his body to sew itself up over an hour or so before he headed out again. More than once, Kaneki had been forced to let Uta give him a backyard lobotomy to dig out some shrapnel embedded in his brain.

Kaneki supposed that was pretty morbid.

His work phone had no contacts, which had led him to the habit of memorizing all the numbers on his student phone. It wasn’t really a useful habit until Kimi’s number appeared and sent him a text.

_I added u to Hides phone •̀.̫•́_ _✧_

* * *

 

Yoriko massaged Touka’s face. “Stop scowling,” she groaned. “You’ll get wrinkles early!”

Touka only scowled harder. “I have a lot to think about.”

“Geh,” Yoriko sighed, leaning back. “Fine. Tell me your problems, young maiden, and I shall offer my sage, bready advice.”

“I don’t want bread,” Touka said, pouting. “Besides, it’s late. Snacking late at night is bad for your metabolism.”

“Touka, you and I _both_ know that your metabolism is A-okay, Miss Model Proportions.” At this, Touka felt her face go red. “I made a batch before, so they’ll be nice and warm. Come, tell the wise Yoriko that which ails you.”

Touka’s pout didn’t cease. She looked away, studying the grain of the wood in Yoriko’s kitchen table. “I want to set my friend up with some guy, but he’s . . . shy?”

“Yeah? That’s common.” Yoriko pulled on her oven mitts. “So what’s the problem? It _can_ be a double date.”

“No, no, it’s . . .” _complicated,_ she wanted to say. It was times like these where Touka found herself weighing up the options: did she tell Yoriko that she was actually part of Tokyo’s most dangerous gang, and that her ‘friend’ was _the_ Kaneki Ken, or did she keep it as bland as possible?

Yoriko’s parents were out, which meant they had the city apartment to themselves. It was always like this: Touka at her house, not at Touka’s, because if her parents found out where Touka actually lived, well, they’d probably have a heart attack and call the authorities in an instant, just as Touka had escaped them.

“Okay, okay. Let’s think of the selling points, here. How is your friend in the looks department?”

“Yoriko, you’re asking me, and I have _no_ idea.”

“Can I see a picture?” There was a blast of hot air as Yoriko opened up the oven, the fan whirring loudly as she pulled out the tray of perfectly-round, fluffy buns. Touka scrolled through her phone, looking for a picture of Kaneki as Haise. It wasn’t good, but the fake ID picture was all she had. That, and an old before-after thing she’d taken from years ago when she first showed Kaneki the ‘power of makeup’.

He didn’t know she still had it.

“This is his student ID. How is it?”

Yoriko placed the tray on the stove and removed one of her mitts, taking Touka’s phone in her hand. She scrutinised him, eyes narrowing. “You know,” she said slowly, “he’s pretty . . . not ugly.”

Touka scowled. “Look, I know he’s probably not going to make it to a magazine cover and all, but—”

“I think the glasses don’t suit him,” said Yoriko, “like, they’re too big. They take up his whole face, woman. Get him a better pair.”

 _That was the whole point of the glasses though,_ Touka sighed internally. _To hide his face._

“Yeah, fine. Anything else?”

“He’s not bad. He could get someone _easily._ So what’s the problem?”

“Well . . .” Yoriko handed back her phone and turned to the bread. Touka watched the expert movements of her hands as they deftly lifted off the oven-hot bread quickly to avoid burning herself. It was almost hypnotising, the methodical rhythm of it.

“Well, what?”

_If he had 99 problems, my life would be so much easier._

“Remember, a few weeks back, I told you how I’d been really mean to this guy Nishio introduced me to?”

“ _No.”_ Yoriko looked horrified, holding the plate of bread in her hand. “You _didn’t.”_

“I did.”

“But—but he was—and you knew? You knew that your friend had a thing for the guy and you just—”

“I was worried he wasn’t good enough! And then I got mad, and well . . . look, I know I went a bit far, and I remember you being really harsh about it, _but_ —”

“You didn’t tell me you wanted them to _go out!”_ Yoriko sighed, sitting down. “You roasted this poor, innocent soul, and now you’re feeling bad about it again. Oh, no.”

“Okay, well, don’t blame me yet. This guy”—she jabbed to Kaneki on the screen—“they still got on, by some miracle. There were a few . . . hiccups along the way, but they sort of maintained a distant friendship-thing? Look, basically now the guy is in hospital and good old Haise here is too nervous to take advantage of this.”

Yoriko placed some butter on the table. “He’s not wrong.”

“That’s not what I want to hear!” Touka groaned, flopping herself over the back of the chair. “Yoriko, this guy—he’s a really good guy, so—”

“What’s his name?” Yoriko tore off a bit of steaming bread and sat down. “Do I know him?”

“His name’s Hide, so—”

“ _No,_ the one from the club? Really?”

Touka felt herself deflating into an irritated puddle. Of _course_ Yoriko would remember him, the person she had danced with _instead_ of Touka. She scowled, picking a bun up and splitting it despite the burning of her hands. Gosh, she was angry. “Yes, the one from the club.”

Yoriko watched her, amusement clear on her face. “Are you jealous that I remember him, Touka?”

“Shut up,” she growled, angrily chewing the still-scorching bread. It was good. It was _always_ good when Yoriko made it. “Besides, I still kind of low-key hate him.”

“ _But_?”

Touka gnashed her teeth. Yoriko was definitely going to make her do this. “But what?”

“Come on, say the nice things. You _know_ there are nice things, so spit them out.”

Yoriko looked far too smug with herself.

 _“But,_ he actually likes the guy and he’s kind of stupid but kind of smart at the same time, and he’s still nice to my friend _despite_ the fact that he’s probably not a good person, and he’s making progress in ways I could never even hope to despite _living_ with the guy.”

Yoriko’s smile didn’t falter. God, how did people as nice as Yoriko even _exist_?

“Feel better?”

“Like hell I do!” Touka snapped, glaring angrily at the bread in her hand. “All it does is make me angry.”

“What’s this guy . . . the glasses kid, Haise? Yeah, him—what’s he to you, anyway? Like, since you’re _dating_ me and all”—she winked at Touka, who felt herself go even redder in the face—“you seem to really care about him, but he looks like an average dude. He _also_ wasn’t someone you talked about a lot in school, so where’d he come from?”

“I didn’t talk about a lot during school,” Touka grumbled. At this Yoriko softened, reaching up to play with Touka’s bangs. God, steam could be coming out of her ears. Yoriko pushed the hair off her face, revealing it in all its _blinding_ clarity.

“I know you didn’t,” she said. “You’re like a superhero, Touka. You have all these mysterious friends and family members.”

_Superhero. More like a supervillain’s lackey._

“They’re hardly mysterious,” Touka shrugged, staring at anything that wasn’t Yoriko’s face. “I just . . . “

“Don’t like talking about them?” Yoriko finished. “Okay. Well, when you do, we can finish this. Because you seem to be pushing your little friend towards this guy, and, well, when he’s in hospital, y’know, maybe that’s a bad time?”

“I know,” Touka said. “I know, I know. Just . . . he’s the kind of guy to be too nervous to get close, so people think he’s not interested, or he’s left, and then they leave and he has no idea what’s happened.”

“Hmm.” Yoriko released her, turning back to her bread. “Well, in the end, you can only point him that way, right? They get along, so maybe Hide understands that about him already.”

“I hope so,” Touka said.

* * *

 

Hide had seen his mother angry. He’d seen her absolutely pissed, enraged, in fury so bad flames came from her eyes, but he’d never seen her like this: like she was the embodiment of _steel._

“Yoshitoki,” she said, level, but Hide could see the tiny, wispy hairs falling from the tight bun she’d pulled her hair into as she shook from anger. She hated this man, and Hide could feel it from there, prone, in a hospital bed.

That was kind of pathetic, making his mother do all the fighting.

“Yoko,” he replied, the easy _imouto_ falling from his mouth. Sister. _Little_ sister. This was her older brother, Hide’s uncle.

“Kousuke, please leave the room,” Yoko said smoothly. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Yoko, I don’t—”

 _“Leave,_ Kousuke,” she repeated. “Please.”

Hide gave a nervous glance to his father, who was unusually gaunt. He clenched his jaw but nodded, getting up and brushing past the other man in silence.

When he was out of the room, Yoko stood. “Why have you come?”

“Let’s be civil here, Yoko,” said Washuu. “I’ve not come seeking conflict.”

Hide’s hand gripped at the sheet. The envelope. His mother had told him to get the envelope, but Kaneki had already left for it and had yet to come back. He swallowed. Until that letter came, they were powerless.

Washuu, Hide’s _uncle,_ was dressed in official CCG uniform. He could see from the insignia on his coat pocket that he was a Special Class—the highest class of investigator. His dark hair was combed to the side, tidy with the slightest hint of a well-groomed beard. He leaned on a cane in front of him. Everything about the way he stood, the way he was poised, and the way he spoke screamed authority.

One that his mother didn’t enjoy recognising.

“You came looking for my son, I know,” she snapped, “how’d you find me? Which camera? The station? It would be, wouldn’t it?”

“Impeccable analysis as always,” Yoshitoki smiled. If Hide didn’t look at him through the lens his mother had trained him to, it could have seemed friendly. “It was indeed the station’s. We had it programmed to find your face.”

“As I thought,” she sighed. “Well, what now? You _know_ that I will never come back. I evaded you for these years, and I’ll evade you again.”

“But your son won’t.”

Light. Friendly. Non-threatening. Everything about his voice was without danger, but the words were definitely fearful. Hide swallowed. This wasn’t the fear he felt from hiding behind the dumpsters, this wasn’t the fear he felt while he watched his friends fall.

This was an unbreakable, untouchable fear that came from the difference in their strengths.

“I want your son to join the CCG,” he said. “He’s probably just as excellent as you, and he’s not a _carrier._ ”

Carrier? What the hell was a carrier?

Yoko stood dead-straight, visually unaffected by his words. “He hasn’t had a day of training in his life. If you want him to join the CCG, it’ll be through the normal method.”

“We don’t have that sort of time, Yoko,” Yoshitoki repeated. “I understand your ‘motherly’ concern, but he’s a Washuu by blood, so he’ll be receiving the best of the best.”

Yoko ground her teeth. “You wait. Any second now, a letter will be arriving, and you’ll be put in your place.”

“A letter?” Yoshitoki looked amused. “A scrap of paper will put me in place? If it was written by you, then it’s power is—”

“My status means nothing, _number two,_ but the author’s does.”

If Yoshitoki was in any way wounded by what his mother said, he didn’t show it. He smiled thinly, wryly, almost apologetically. “Number two? You still try and sway me like that?”

Hide felt like he didn’t even belong in the room. He was watching two storms collide, and he was just a township about to be destroyed. Oh, God.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yoko repeated. Her voice had been growing steadily calmer as she argued. Hide could see, now, the similarity in the way they spoke, the way they stood, and as time went on they became more and more alike.

 _This_ was what his mother had been running from. This is what she had been telling Hide his whole life to stay away from. Washuu.

And she was one of them.

“The CCG entrant system states that he will be bound to five years’ worth of service, receive medical care and tuition fees. That is how it has been for the last thirty tears, and it is still current, Yoshitoki. Five years. It is his decision.”

_“It’ll only bind you to five years of work! And it covers your medical bills!”_

Hide thought of Akira’s ploy to get him to join. That being said, he’d heard terrible things about trainees. Having to go solo in gang-riddled warehouses as bait, getting separated from their groups, dying or becoming murderers.

Was Hide that kind of person?

Could he be the one to pull the trigger on someone _else’s_ friends?

Yoshitoki’s smile was small but strong. “He’ll be taken into the Officer program upon entering, Yoko. I will personally put in a word.”

“You won’t,” snapped the older woman, “or I will destroy Tsuneyoshi.”

“They’re big words, Yoko,” laughed the older man, “you sure are making a large claim.”

His mother, Hide knew, was as obstinate as bedrock. Nothing could move her, and she had the strength to shift the entire area like a glacier.

If Nagachika Yoko—if _Washuu_ Yoko, said he would destroy someone, Hide damn well knew she would do it.

This was the same woman he had evaded to go to Tokyo. Shit.

“You haven’t changed at all, Yoko,” Yoshitoki said. “You still—”

“Um! E-Excuse me!”

Three pairs of eyes turned to the slight frame of the boy at the door. Behind him, Hide’s father tried to tug him away, but the white-haired, glasses-wearing youth had the look of sheer, stupid determination as he stood there, holding the yellow envelope in his hands. “This is, um, Hide’s! I think . . .”

_“The Washuu? They’re some big CCG family, right?”_

_“I don’t really know anything about them, but they’re probably powerful.”_

Staring at Kaneki’s face—Haise’s face, distinctly without an eye-patch, revealing a perfectly normal grey eye—it was hard for Hide to believe that they were the same. Still, one thing remained.

He always seemed to show up to save him.

“H-Haise, hi! This is my Ma, Nagachika Yoko, and this is, uh, Washuu Yoshitoki.” Hide tried to sound as dignified as he could, immobile, in a hospital bed, whilst two older people did all the arguing. Kaneki bowed hurriedly to both of them, turning back to his father and bowing to him as well.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt,” he said, walking in and handing Hide the letter. His hand didn’t shake. He looked better than he had, even if his left eye looked a little irritated.

He gave a tiny, nervous smile, bowed in a nervous flurry to everyone in the room again, and backed away.

“Who was he?” His mother onto him in an instant. “You didn’t tell me about him.”

“Well, I—”

“ _Oh.”_ The accusation was in her eyes instantly. Hide wilted. He could _hear_ her screaming _“I SAID NO MORE BAD PEOPLE WITH GOOD INTENTIONS, YOU SILLY BOY! GO FARM FOR THREE HOURS!”_

She gave him a sharp look that meant ‘we’re talking about this later’, and handed the letter to the older man. “This is the one. If you’re smart, you’ll open it in private.”

If Yoshitoki was miffed about her speaking to him in such a way, he didn’t show it. He smiled easily, completely different to a Nagachika grin. It reminded Hide of a fox’s smile, slim and cunning, but elegant. “You really haven’t changed. Very well. Official questioning starts today, but in all honesty, I’m not too fussed about it. The dead bury the dead, don’t they, Yoko?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Hide jumped in first. “They’re all dead, we know. The guy who did it is dead too, but an honest Investigator would still make the case officially closed, wouldn’t they?”

Yoshitoki’s gaze finally focused on him, and his smile softened. “They would, yes.”

He didn’t bow to any of them as he left in a swish of his long, white coat. Yoko glared after him, before finally sitting herself down. “That was a stupid decision, Hide. Stupid.”

“I’m good at that.”

She sighed. “After this, you’ll join the CCG program, _despite_ everything I wanted, so—”

“I get it,” said Hide, smiling. She was trying in her own way, and Hide couldn’t think about himself forever. “I do. Besides, you got me out of that creepy Officer stuff, right?”

Yoko shook her head. “They’ll keep trying. Don’t ever let them enter you, Hide. Don’t make friends there, or you’ll be full of weaknesses. You have a good brain in your head, and you need it, because you can’t communicate with others. Like me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t, but—”

“The CCG won’t let you leave the city for five years, while your agreement holds,” she said. “In that time, they’ll probably try and find me. Hide, your father and I have already decided. We’re going to hide. They won’t find us, but neither will you.”

_Oh._

“That’s . . .” _a good joke,_ he wanted to say, but looking from her to his father, standing at the door, he knew it was no joke. In the space of a few days, he’d lose his friends _and_ his parents.

“When are you leaving?”

Yoko sighed. “Tonight. But you listen to me, Hide—as soon as those five years are up, you leave this place. You leave this city and disappear. Country word travels fast. We’re both smart. We’ll find each other, okay?”

Damn, Hide thought. _Damn._

Yoko pulled him against her, holding him tight. “I’m looking after number one, okay, Hide? You’re number one. You’ll always be my number one. Now, just . . . you be a good boy, okay?”

_“One may take the man from Hell, but one may never take the Hell from man.”_

The Washuu. He could escape them, but they would always be in his blood, in his mother’s blood, in her past, in his future.

Hide hated the Washuu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i wonder what Kaneki and Hide talked about before Hide asked for the letter lol
> 
> Not sure how many people love Investigator!Hide so ... yeah. Just warning you, that kind of is where this is going. I'll add it to the tags. 
> 
> A lot of dialogue in this chapter, I know. I'm sorry if you didn't enjoy that.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone that always reads this and leaves such lovely comments! I know I still haven't gotten around to replying, but I really do read them all, and I'm so grateful for everyone! Thank you all! Thank you also to all the kudos, and literally anyone that reads it. Seriously. Thank you so much. 
> 
> See you in a few days!


	29. Like Ships without Anchors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh look some more stuff that actually has something to do with the plot but not a lot ༼ ͒ ̶ ͒༽

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ everyone!
> 
> Thank you all very much for the response to the last chapter! It was super nice and I'm so glad you all enjoy the story :D
> 
> Just a heads up: i legit realised that I'd written that Hide's phone got destroyed back in chapter 25 and yet I his phone appeared in the last chapter???? basically I went back and changed that up and this chapter is based on the fact that no, Hide does not have a phone. Sorry about that!
> 
> Please enjoy this one which has been gloriously proofread.

_“At the end of the day, it’s due to my own weakness, isn’t it?” Hide sighed. He was tired. He’d been awake too long, avoiding what he was thinking for too long. Too long. Everything had stretched on too long. “If I had been faster, if I’d bought them more time—”_

_“A long time ago,” Kaneki cut him off, staring distantly ahead, “I was told by someone that their absolute view of the world was that ‘all the consequences of this world are caused by one’s lack of ability’, or something like that.”_

_Hide let out the breath very slowly. He felt that if he let it out too quickly, he would wind himself. Kaneki’s words hit home._

_“It’s kind of true,” Kaneki said, not waiting for a response. “But that view is very warped. Some things don’t rely on the interactions of people. It’s just a way of blaming yourself.”_

_No, Hide realised. It wasn’t at all. Kaneki spoke rationally, but somewhere along the way his sentence had turned to lies. Hide studied the way he rubbed at his chin. He did that a lot, didn’t he? As if he were trying to cover the words coming from his mouth. Trying to hide them._

_“You say that,” he tried tentatively, “but you listen to it, don’t you?”_

_Kaneki was impeccably still as he let the words sink in. “Maybe I do,” he said. “But that’s not a stupid decision.”_

_Hide wanted to argue with him. It was irrational, it was self-deprecating, and it was by no means a sustainable view of life. By no means. Yet Hide found himself unable to hold a candle to Kaneki, for fear that the argument would go around in circles. Clearly the words went deeper than ‘something Kaneki had heard’. Maybe he’d find out the truth one day._

_Maybe not._

* * *

 

“Hello? Tsukiyama?” Kaneki leaned on the railing of the balcony, standing outside their apartment door. “Yes, it’s me, Kaneki.”

_“Kaneki? Why would you call?”_

Kaneki tapped on the metal railing, its paint rusting away. “I’m going to start going to Kamii again.”

_“What? You will? But—that means that—”_

“I’ve already contacted them,” he said. This was a moment for Sasaki, not Kaneki, yet he felt the same as when he was on the job, weapons around his waist and a job on the screen of his phone. “I told them I was out of town on family business. Because of the amount of time I’ve been away, I’ll be sitting some exams, but I’ll have to drop some subjects.”

On the line, he heard Tsukiyama shuffling and talking to someone. Mirumo. This was Kaneki’s job, after all. How could he abandon something like this? How come he hadn’t realised that he’d been depriving Tsukiyama of his way out of the hell the CCG had put him in? With an education, Tsukiyama Shuu could start a new business that wasn’t nearly as shady as the one his father had been managing for generations. _“Are you serious about this? I’ll be sitting the exams as well if you are.”_

“Yes, I’m serious,” said Kaneki. He reached for a cigarette, only to find he had none. Oh. “Our only overlapping subject is Creative Writing, isn’t it? I’ll be sure to keep that one.”

_“When are the exams?”_

“In two weeks,” Kaneki said. “Many students are there. Tell them your father was sick or something.”

“ _Well, come by for dinner or something so we can talk in person.”_

“I will,” Kaneki said. “But not now. Later.”

_“Also,”_ Tsukiyama paused, hesitant on his end of the line. _“Thank you for this decision.”_

He hung up.

Interpersonal relations weren’t meant to be this easy, Kaneki knew. He put the phone into his back pocket and zipped up the neck of his turtleneck. He’d had too many days off. Whatever pocket of happiness he’d found himself in was about to be shattered, and he knew it. Soft smiles and dark conversations wouldn’t touch this world.

A world the CCG would drag Hide into.

* * *

 

_“Where’d Sasaki Haise even come from?” he’d asked, staring out into the dark corridor. “Like, the name. On the system, Sasaki Haise is someone else.”_

_Kaneki swallowed. “He was . . . one of my jobs.”_

_“Excuse me?” Hide seemed unnerved by the statement. Kaneki cursed his work. God, it sucked._

_“It was a while ago,” Kaneki said. “No big deal.” No big deal? Kaneki had killed the guy! He’d been illegally distributing meth and Itori didn’t like it. He’d become estranged from his friends and family in a matter of months. They’d probably disowned him because of his sudden descent. He was stupid. He was the one who’d had it all and blown it: a good education, a good family—all for the underworld Kaneki lived in. The world Kaneki haunted._

_He’d taken his identity and used it._

_“I don’t really know why everyone is so lax about him,” Kaneki admitted, “but he was never classified as missing. He just went up in smoke.”_

_“Oh. I see.” Hide seemed awfully calm despite being told Kaneki had killed someone and stolen their identity, their history. “I guess in a city as big as this, it’d be more surprising if that didn’t happen.”_

_Kaneki nodded mutely. What else could it be? After all, he’d been one of them, once upon a time._

_God, understanding really took its toll. Kaneki was already tired. What was it, a muscle he hadn’t used in years? Oh, right. That’s exactly what it was._

_“It’s not a happy story. I’m sorry.”_

_Hide shook his head. “Don’t be. I asked for it, didn’t I?”_

_Kaneki scratched at his knuckles nervously. It was five-thirty in the morning, he was sitting in a hospital room, breaking the rules, just to talk to the boy who had ultimately gotten there because of him. Touka had made it into a giant ‘date’, but Kaneki was pretty sure sitting in the dark talking about sad things was not a date by modern conventions._

_“Kimi says you’ve talked,” he tried. Shit, his conversation skills were bad. It was like he was pointing out a bug that had crawled into the room. Look! A bug! You and Kimi have talked! That’s what it felt like._

_Despite this, Hide nodded, thoughtful._

_“She is quite the character,” he mused, holding his chin in deep thought. “Wise, mysterious.”_

_“Mysterious?” Kaneki asked. “How so?” As far as he’d known Kimi, she’d been that one girl Nishio had really, truly liked. He knew that life hadn’t really given her everything on a silver platter, but who had?_

_“She’s really strong,” Hide said simply, nodding to himself. “But you wouldn’t notice it.”_

_Kaneki was at a loss to try and describe what ‘strength’ was. For whatever reason, Hide and he seemed to have different views._

* * *

 

“Please sign here,” Akira said at last. “That concludes our witness report, and your agreement to join the CCG.”

His parents were out of the room, probably packing up and erasing any trace of them having been there. In the room now, there was a camera set up to record their interview, which Hide had found himself fairly free to talk about. Worryingly, almost. Weren’t people meant to get teary and break down? Surely, only having to pause a few times wasn’t normal.

He’d described it as accurately as he could: the sudden appearance, the motive, his attempt, the result. As he went on, he became painfully aware that it had been _him_ that did all this. _Him_ that survived this, and judging by the looks on their faces, it was shocking even to them. Hide should really be more affected by this, right? He should. So why wasn’t he?

“Thank you,” said Hide softly, his desire to talk growing thin. This wasn't like him! He wanted to smile and laugh and . . . make sure everyone knew he was fine, right? He was. He was _very_ fine. He was the most fine. So why couldn’t he stretch his face into that wide, friendly smile? Why couldn’t he?

So pathetic.

He gave the document a quick once-over. There were no surprises. Medical bills covered. Tuition bills covered. Students were to attend cram classes for the first two years, or an accelerated summer class that Hide would no doubt be roped into. He’d be required to spent the second year working as a Rank 3 in a Ward Branch Office, and he would be eligible for promotions either during the next three years with independent field work, or if he achieved excellence in either the field or investigation.

How much were the Washuu willing to toy with these laws? Why was it that he always felt them breathing down the back of his neck? Dammit.

_“You read, right? Do you remember that line in some book—it was a bad book, I had to read it for school I think—where he talks about taking men from hell or something?”_

_Kaneki nodded. “It’s a Takatsuki Sen book. Part of the ‘Monochrome Rainbow’ collection. ‘One may take the man from Hell, but no one make take Hell from the man.’”_

He signed it. Handed it back. They packed up the video equipment. “I think they’re sending you in early,” said Akira soberly. “For the treatment. The Washuu specifically said that you would be getting to be part of the new trial medical procedure.”

That sounded _fun._ Unfortunately, he had read in the agreement that they were allowed to do that once he gave his consent if he ticked that box. Looks like Hide had, after all. Shit, he was tired.

“It means you’ll be transferred to the CCG hospital,” she went on.

“Okay,” he said, sprinting the mile and stretching his lips out to a small smile. “I think the meds are making me tired, I’m sorry. Looks like I’ll end up working with you all for even longer, huh?”

Akira gave him a polite smile, but he could see she was worried. She was like that. Always calm, cool and collected, but where her subordinates were concerned she went the extra mile. She was a little bit of a mother, Hide supposed, but if he said that to her she’d probably beat him up, already in hospital or not.

“They say that with the treatment, you could be discharged by the end of the week,” Amon said, gathering his coat. “You’ll be fine now, Nagachika.”

“Thanks, guys. I’m sure you all have work, so you can leave me to the nurses. They’re nice. Like their uniform.”

Akira looked ready to smack him, but relieved.

Hide watched them go, waving merrily. It was fake. It was so, so fake. Damn.

He was tired of this.

* * *

 

_Kaneki had arrived there when Hide realised he’d drifted off. He woke up, seeing the other sitting in the chair, reading a well-worn copy of_ The Black Goat’s Egg. _So he still was a reader, huh?_

_“Yo,” he said, smiling. He didn’t have the nerve to say it, but his initial thought when another person appeared in the room was ‘oh shit not more’._

_“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk,” Kaneki said without looking up from his book. He turned the page. “It gets tiring after a while, lying.”_

_Had Kaneki read him that easily? No, surely not. Had he been sleep-talking? Maybe Kaneki was quoting the book. Was that something he’d do? He didn’t know._

_“I’m not lying,” he said cheerfully. “It’s nice to see you.”_

_Kaneki closed his book calmly. He stared into its closed shape, every thin page pressed together between the soft covers, turning and peeling with age. “Not the words,” Kaneki said, “the sentiments.”_

_He looked up, and Hide thought he was being seen through, like Nagachika Hideyoshi had been condensed into a collection of spindly characters written onto a page for Kaneki to read, each thought easily seen and comprehensive. Cohesive. Simple._

_“A-Aren’t guests meant to be more cheerful?” he tried again, tentative. He was not going to start crying about this whole business again. “You’re really ruining the mood, here.”_

_Kaneki looked back down. “I’m sorry.”_

* * *

 

It was a Monday night, and Ayato asked Kaneki for help.

“The essay wants me to analyse his effect on the story,” Ayato said, “talking about language conventions and shit, but I don’t get what any of that means.”

Kaneki couldn’t help himself: he smiled.

“Whoa, get away,” Ayato growled, inching back. “Who are you?”

“It’s literature!” Kaneki said, pulling the task sheet his way. “What they want you to answer and discuss, basically, is his role on the story. Is this . . . this man isn’t a main character, so talk about his relationship with the main characters. When they talk about language conventions, they mean how he addresses them, his speech pattern, the way he’s described. That sort of thing.”

“The only thing they really talk about him especially is the magical properties of his cloak, though,” Ayato muttered. “Like . . . symbolism? I think that’s what the teacher called it.”

“It’s a symbol. They relate it strongly to predatory cats, from memory. The whole idea of an animal symbol is also a form of anthropomorphism.” _Please know what that is,_ he prayed.

“Yeah. Early on, they call it a tiger, then a lion, and then a black panther. I don’t really know what that means.” Ayato’s prejudice seemed to fade as he went on. Kaneki couldn’t keep the smile of his face. Ayato was doing work. Ayato was doing _literature_ work.

“Well, what I would say is that the tiger is meant to represent his regal status, as maybe, like, a ruler. He is a ruler, isn’t he? In exile, yeah. Relate it to the national animals of countries. It has some royal influence. Then, they change it to a lion. The lion is the whole ‘king of the jungle’ image, so just talk about it. That’s when he’s reinstated to the throne. Then he gets overthrown, and he runs away. They start calling it panther after that. I don’t really remember what its exact symbolist meanings are, but generally they have the same values as big cats, just more . . . shady? Yeah.”

Ayato side-glared him. “You spoke way too fast for me.”

Kaneki glanced down at his notes, which were still on ‘tiger means royalty’. “O-oh . . .” Kaneki started. He’d never spoken that long in ages. It almost left him tired.

“Kaneki? Earth to shithead? Are you high? You’re high, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t even smoked in three days,” Kaneki said levelly. Ayato’s eyes widened as if an electric shock has passed through him.

“Ew.”

“Well, fine. That’s one paragraph done. What will you do about the next two?”

“Excuse me?” Ayato’s annoyance turned to horror. “That doesn’t make up the entire essay?”

“That’s just one assertion,” Kaneki said patently. “One of your points of focus. It’s a good start. You need two others that aren’t too far away from that general point to talk about for the next two paragraphs. You need an intro which discusses these points, and the conclusion that summarises everything you’ve said.”

“That’s it, I’m quitting school.” Ayato put his pen down, shell-shocked. “I have no idea how I’m going to make it through.”

“What? But you do all this in the first ten minutes of an exam!” Kaneki took another one of Ayato’s notebooks. “You understand the question, right? Then you just brainstorm. You can do it any way you want. This is the annotation phase. This usually takes a few minutes.”

“Kaneki, you _need_ to slow this down.” Ayato ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve never written an essay that detailed in my life.”

Kaneki felt his excitement drop. “Ayato,” he started, “what are your grades even like?”

* * *

 

Yoshitoki had to re-read the letter a few times. In the envelope were two letters, one from Yoko, his estranged sister, and one from Washuu Hiyori, his grandmother. One of the few people who had had power over his father. _Had._ Until she died.

One of the letters was just that: a letter. It discussed her motive—unnecessary—her relation to Hideyoshi—his mother—and furthermore, a seal that could not be broken by the highest power of the Washuu main branch family. At first, he thought she was kidding.

She wasn’t kidding.

A copy of Washuu Hiyori’s will was enclosed in the letter. Legally binding. Still powerful, and a document that had been previously unknown. His grandmother’s will. A will that stated everything of value in the Washuu name be passed to Yoko, the brightest, most brilliant of the siblings. _“In the event that I should die, I leave everything to her and her next of kin.”_

When he’d shown Tsuneyori, his father, he’d not been impressed. “She was always crafty,” he remarked, “and unfortunately, this binds us.”

“Can’t we just destroy it?” Matsuri asked, unimpressed. “They’re just papers.”

“It’s not that simple,” Yoshitoki said calmly. “If grandmother is truly dead, then Yoko, wherever she is, owns the entirety of the CCG.”

“Then why give it us?” Matsuri didn’t look impressed. “If we destroy it, then that is nothing.”

“This is a copy, Matsuri,” Yoshitoki said. “Yoko has hidden the real copy. She’s cut out grandmother’s stamp. This means nothing.”

“If we find her,” Matsuri started, “then we just—”

“What? Then we kill her? And leave the CCG to her son? Or what else? We just ask her? She’ll have hidden it. We could tear up the globe looking for it but never find it. You don’t remember how crafty she was, Matsuri. She could wear your prized possession on your throat and you wouldn’t notice until she killed you with it.”

Matsuri was silent. Yoshitoki scolded himself. Even when surrounded by family, he couldn’t lose his composure like that. After seeing her in person, in her house-wife, farming shape, he could all but see Yoko smiling at him, smug as he was put in place. _Overly zealous, brother?_

Like hell.

“You underestimate her, Yoshitoki,” said his father, his voice echoing in the room. His position as the head of CCG made him especially weak to this document. Whatever could Yoko have pulled to get this?

If word got out, then Tsuneyori would be powerless.

“The boy would not know either,” he went on. “She would know it poses a threat to our safety. She and us are probably the only people in the whole world who know this, along with my mother, who is dead.”

The papers were there, telling every man in the room that they owned not a shred of the CCG. After his grandfather had died, his grandmother, Washuu Hiyori, had expanded the CCG and raised their son herself. Naturally, his wife had died, as was the nature of all who married into the Washuu name. Yoko had been the younger of the two, and by far better at everything the CCG stood for than her older brother. She had been number one.

Yoshitoki had been number two.

Brilliant in all fields, a quick wit, always aware of her surroundings and a constant ability to escape any situation by laying flawless groundwork. She had become invested in trying to end the curse of the Washuu, when one day, at the age of twenty, she disappeared without a trace.

_What if it was fake?_ What then, he wanted to know. The dates were more recent than the pre-existing one that his father had taken and used. The most recent, the real will, made in secret, signed by lawyers and witnesses who had taken it with them to the grave, was the real deal.

Yoko clearly saw no use in destroying the CCG, but rather bending it to get what she wanted.

“She’ll find a way to know if we harm her son,” Yoshitoki said. “We’ll have to abandon our hopes for him now.”

“I leave it in your hands,” his father told him. “I have no doubt he is probably more excellent than his mother, once we give him the right training. Use him well.”

“He’ll be drafted into the advanced summer classes with the academy graduates,” Matsuri said. “He’s only joined through general admission, so—”

“You may be silent, Matsuri,” Yoshitoki said, eerily calm but carrying threat. “The meeting is over. Thank you, Chairman.”

His sister never ceased causing trouble, damn her.

* * *

 

_“My mother—there’s a letter that I need. It’s in my room, in my dorm. She told me I had to get it. I’d have texted you, but—”_

_“Your phone got destroyed,” Kaneki finished. “I can find it for you. Let me guess; tucked away in a drawer?”_

_“In plain sight. I think I underestimated its value. The bottom drawer of my desk. Yellow envelope.”_

_“Got it.”_

_Hide really couldn’t help himself, could he? The curious mind is the most brutal, after all. He said it before he could overthink the decision._

_“Did you have black hair at one stage, Kaneki?”_

_Kaneki closed his eyes, as if it were a question he had been long dreading and expecting. Hide watched the boy swallow, until with great effort, Kaneki forced out the answer. “Yes,” he said. “I did. A very long time ago, when things were different.”_

_Kaneki stood. “Visiting hours start soon. I should leave you. I’ll go and find that letter and bring it back, so be patient. I think you . . . I think you’re someone who can rely on people. I think you should.”_

_“What makes you say that?” Hide said, genuinely curious. Kaneki shrugged._

_“No idea.”_

_Kaneki pushed his glasses back on, reaching for his coat. Before Hide talked himself out of it, he grabbed at Kaneki’s wrist, biting back the dull pain that burst from his hand._

_“You’ll come back, right?” Hide asked. “You’ll . . . you won’t—”_

_“I told you I’d be back, right?” Kaneki’s face had the same softness Hide remembered from that night in the club, but now the only light he saw was the harsh white light from the hospital’s exterior. It made him look white-washed, transparent and ghostlike. “With your letter.”_

_“That’s not what I mean,” Hide insisted. “I mean_ back. _Again. Tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after, or maybe all of them, or . . .”_

_Don’t make friends. Don’t rely on others. God, Hide wanted to be able to live up to that, but he was already relying on someone’s company that was so far removed from his usual interactions that he couldn’t put it into words. Kaneki was distant, obstinate and constant. Hide knew that was stupid, but it was like he’d clung to Kaneki’s words from the alley, covered in blood and dripping wet in the rain._

“Feel that? It’s a heartbeat. It’s mine. It won’t stop, I promise you.”

_Kaneki’s face was unreadable. Hide began to feel as if he’d scared Kaneki back into his shell, like a snail that had been poked. He steeled himself to let go of Kaneki’s hand. Clearly, Kaneki hadn’t meant him when he talked about relying on anyone._

_“I’ll . . . I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kaneki said. “I don’t know how I’ll make it, since Kimi doesn’t work on Tuesdays, but I’ll be here.”_

_He wasn’t lying, Hide noticed. It was honest._

* * *

 

During the transfer to the next hospital, in which Hide was put into a wheelchair and carted off, all he could think of was his mother’s parting words.

“ _They’ll want to destroy everything Nagachika means,”_ she’d said. _“Affection, the capacity to be overwhelmed by emotions—they hate that. It’s weakness to them. That’s one of the many thing I hate about them, and they’ll want to get rid of anything like that they see in you.”_

He’d been silent. At that time, it had been far too much to handle. The atmosphere of this hospital wasn’t the same, but the more and more clear he became mentally, the more he began to realise what was really happening.

_“That friend of yours—the one who delivered the letter? I know you already know about them. I don’t approve of it, but right now you need someone like that.”_

Hide didn’t have the nerve to speak. He’d let her talk, relishing every word she said, hanging on for the ‘maybe we’ll stay’.

It didn’t come.

_“Don’t rely on other people, don’t make friends, don’t make ties. The Washuu will destroy them just to hurt you.”_

Hide sighed, trying to relax his hands where they gripped the chair he sat on. The change of scenery was nice, but the wheelchair had a limit to its stability. Calm down, calm down. He would be going in for surgery later tonight. He couldn’t afford to be so stressed.

_“Show them how smart you are so they leave you alone. It’s inevitable that one day they’ll try and get to you. Inevitable. Stay safe. Look after yourself, and don’t let yourself get hurt like this again.”_

Then had come the parting of _‘love you’_ and ‘ _stay safe’_ and his father’s stoic embrace and the usual details that were already growing faint in his mind. All he could do was numbly watch them go and wave them off, praying that they stayed safe.

Just more people leaving him. At least they were alive.

Ah, shit. Kaneki didn’t know about the transfer. Shit. Now he wouldn’t even have someone to talk to. Damn.

Okay, Hide, he told himself. You’ve been sad and depressed long enough. You’ve had your fun. You have one more week of hospital care and rehab. Stop being like this.

More than anything, he just wanted to talk to Kaneki about everything that he’d thought. He wanted to _tell_ someone and not be deemed mentally ill. He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t, but shit, sometimes it felt like he was, and it was suffocating. It was stupid. He didn’t want to tell someone his problems that had no idea how to relate. He wanted to tell someone who lived in a world where it happened. He wanted someone who would play it down, not up, as stupid as that felt.

He’d been mentally ‘shelving’ his issues for so long he felt like the supports were bending, about to collapse from the weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked it!
> 
> So, like, I did a count of the plan and how long I think this fic will be, and legit it's like 100 chapters. I dunno if you guys are prepared to stick around for that or if you wanna leave while we're ahead, but the choice is yours! Yeah! I also perfected the ending so now none of us have to stress about where this is going. ༼ ಠ ͟ʖ ಠ ༽ (Except me, of course). 
> 
> Also, I'll be back to studying at the end of the week and based off how I went this semester, I think I'll have to change up the story's posting to every three days. I'm sorry, but shit was rEAL over here and I was terrified for my life and future. The fic is a great source of enjoyment for me, as I hope it is for you, so don't stress when I say that, because I will continue to write it. 
> 
> As usual, thank you again to every beautiful person that read this! Regardless of if you left kudos or a comment, thank you very much for your time! And if you did leave a comment or kudos - I absolutely love you, thank you very much!
> 
> See you all again soon!
> 
> P.S. the tags do say shit happens around chap 30 it's been pushed back a little bit so at present hang around for around chap 33. Yeah. Thanks!


	30. Crystals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie literally nothing happens except Hide gets sent to bootcamp and Kaneki feels sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello u gorgeous multicellular organisms ive come back with another chapter and no grammar for this note part  
>  ~~not funny~~  
>  thank you all for the lovely response to the last chapter! you guys are the reason i write this fic, so as long as you enjoy it, ill enjoy it until i finish it.  
> 

“This didn’t really conclude anything,” Akira said, nervously tapping her pen against her finger. When the others were in the office, on any other day, she would have been composed and made of steel. Today, when only Amon was there, she didn’t really have a chance.

Hide had made it sound like Takashi was the one being targeted, but through the entire recount, Akira’s intuition, her prized, honed intuition, was telling her she was missing some detail, or that maybe Hide didn’t know one of the details. She knew she should stop this; they had other cases to work on, after all, but she couldn’t put out of her mind that they were _missing_ something.

What had occurred before the incident? What had led into it? Hide had said simply that they were just walking to the car garage when the man had appeared, which was probably the truth, but _something_ must have triggered him to appear at that moment. How did he know that Takashi was going to be there if no one had told him? Who had set him up to do this?

How did he die?

Hide was not the killer. Someone in as bad a state as Hide could never have done that much damage. But then, why had they found him propped against the wall? Who had called the CCG? If it were an innocent bystander, why would they have left?

Akira chewed on her lip. If she had it her way, she would go and question Hide again, as delicate as he was. There were so many holes that she couldn’t let it go, even if the person responsible for the actual act was dead.

Could Hide be connected to the underground?

Akira put her pen down, leaving her fingertips pressing it against the desk for a beat too long. Her instinct was to say no, he didn’t, but everything seemed to point in that direction. The voice was not one the CCG voice recognition system recognised, so maybe it was a petty criminal Hide happened to know. Sure, a petty criminal could do _that_ to the assailant.

Akira closed the document. Not now. Right now, the police had found the scene of a gang clash in the eleventh ward before anyone had had the chance to hide the evidence. This was a crucial step for anything to be done, right? Normally, someone would hide the bodies, pick up the weapons. Normally, these clashes were during the rain—an intelligent decision, because it disguised the sound of the struggle as well as washed away the blood that would no doubt be left along with any evidence. It was smart.

So why had they broken this pattern? What could have possessed them to fight now, of all times? It had occurred in the early hours of Tuesday morning, late march. Around seven in the morning, in what seemed to be a very quiet, industrial area of the place. People were waking up and making breakfast, whereas the gangs were slitting each other’s throats.

Once again, the evidence pointed to a lone man from GLG: Kaneki Ken.

Odd, how two very unrelated people seemed to be taking up her headspace. It was as if the whole thing was connected.

Amon finally looked up at her, shrugging on his coat. “Do you want to get some lunch with me, Akira? I’m sure—”

“Thank you, Amon, but no thank you.” She said the words as politely as she could, but she couldn’t care less for lunch. “I’m thinking of going to visit our Rank 3 Assistant Investigator, however, so you can come with me there.”

* * *

 

Hide didn’t want to admit the flood of disappointment he’d felt when he’d woken up alone in the room. The sinking, horrible feeling that no one had been lying to him, that in fact the world was what they’d said it would be. He’d woken up alone in an unknown hospital, in a new room, with no person in the chair beside him, reading books, and no parents that would dote on him, or yell at him, or laugh it off and remark on how stupid he was. No one.

It was tempting; to let himself lie there and wallow in the injustice he decided to feel. So very tempting.

He decided not to.

Still groggy from the anaesthesia, he pushed himself up, first on his elbows, then up on his hands until he was comfortably upright. There was no sleeping boy, slumped forward on the bed. There were no parents in the chairs. There were no friends at the foot of his bed, ready to have a laugh.

Was this his new life?

Without thinking too hard, he swung his legs over the bed, expecting to see a cast or some bandages or something of the kind holding his muscular tissues in place. He expected the movement to cause him pain. In fact, Hide half-expected there to be blood gushing from his leg when he moved it, or even that there was nothing there at all.

Both legs swung over easily, and Hide saw that there were no bandages at all on his leg. There was no cast on his arm either, he realised. Why? Shit, had he been in a coma for like, thirty years, and now he was healed and fine but fifty yeas old?

He reached up to touch his head, finding it missing the beanie Kaneki had left him as well as any bandages of the kind. Whoa. He looked around and found the grey beanie lying simply on the bedside table, beside the clock that told him 13:03, as well as the date: March 4. The day after his transfer. Thirty years had _not_ passed, and he was waking up after probably being operated on the night before.

That was all well and good, Hide reasoned, so why the hell were his injuries _gone_?

Okay, Hide decided, great philosophers said divine epiphanies came to them while they dealt with bowel movements, so maybe that was a good place to start.

He stood, swaying dangerously, but with no warning lights blaring. He half expected SWAT agents to come bursting into the room and scream at him to get back to bed. Had he died? Was this heaven?

Oh, God. What if it was?

He looked around, taking in the empty room. Compared to this, Tokyo hospital was a fucking childcare centre, with bright colours and caring slogans painted onto the walls. Everything in this room was white and silver, except for the beige vinyl chairs. Jesus. The linoleum floor beneath his feet was the familiar grey patterned kind that was icy cold against his bare feet.

He glanced down, lifting up the flimsy gown to inspect his leg post-gunshot injury. All he had was a tiny indented, circular scar. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the flashiest option, but compared to what he had expected to see following it, it was kind of amazing. If he didn’t know better, it was like there had never been stitches at all.

As if the tissues had healed on their own.

“Good, you’re awake.”

Hide jumped, dropping his gown and stifling an embarrassingly girly squeal. The nurse was old, hair pulled back tightly and tucked behind a cap. She walked over and handed him a wrap-around gown. “Two Investigators are here to see you,” she said, dropping a pair of slippers on the ground. “From the twentieth ward.”

“Ah, thank you!” Hide said, smiling broadly. Amazing, how much mobility lifted his mood, even if he was distinctly aware of how tired and drained he felt. “I feel human again.”

“Don’t get used to it,” the nurse said sharply. “You’re being discharged this afternoon, once the doctors are certain the effects of the anaesthesia have worn off. Then you’ll be sent to the CCG dorms.”

“Ah, that’s a misunderstanding. I actually already have a dorm here, so it’s fine—”

“There’s no misunderstanding,” the nurse snapped, brushing past him to strip the bed of sheets. “It’s the rules. You joined. Anyway, the Investigators will explain it to you. They’re in Visitor Room 16. Get going!”

“Um, okay. Thank you,” he said, picking up the beanie and holding it too tightly to be normal.

“Out!”

Love the compassion, Hide wanted to say as he left.

* * *

 

Amon was busy reading his emails explaining how the additional Investigators that the ward was meant to receive _months_ ago were finally coming next week when Hide walked in.

“Friends! Lovely, kind people who will not tell me to get lost, hello!”

“Sit down, Nagachika,” Akira snapped, the relief clear in her face. She’d been worried, too. She smiled.

Hide mock saluted, dropping himself into the chair. It was like an interrogation room, with Akira and Amon seated on one side of the desk while Hide was alone on the other. He looked better than he had, despite the general look of fatigue that Amon had expected from his situation.

“How are you?” he asked. “Honestly, I’m surprised to see you moving so soon.”

“That’s the weird part,” Hide said, leaning forward, “I woke up, completely healed, without a single bandage.”

“Maybe they should have bandaged your brain,” Akira sighed. “Remember when you signed that CCG form, it said that you would be allowed to be part of developmental therapies? Yeah, you’re one of them.”

Hide’s smile twitched nervously. “Say what?”

“It’s a new system of treatment,” Amon elaborated. “It’s only come into practice this year. They’re using a type of stimulant that makes stem cells multiply at a faster rate, meaning tissues are formed much faster. That’s what I understood about it, anyway.”

Hide didn't look convinced. “Yeah, but _one_ night?”

“Maybe you had a positive reaction,” Akira shrugged. “It usually takes two days, but it’s not that uncommon, since your wounds were mostly small. This was a treatment developed for people who had lost entire limbs or suffered severe injuries.”

“Wow, so am I, like, Deadpool now?”

“Who?” Amon asked.

“No,” Akira cut him off. “Get wounded after the next three days, and you’re back to square one.”

“Damn,” Hide laughed. “I was sure it was time for my superhero debut.”

Amon, despite himself, chuckled. “Anyways, we came to, well—”

“I’d like to question you further about what happened on Saturday night,” Akira supplied. “Not the actual attack, I know that’s not pleasant. Just what happened before. Who was the fourth person?”

Hide scratched his head, thinking. He did a great job of downplaying what he must have been feeling, Amon knew. He’d been distant yesterday, but it seemed his condition had improved. “Her name was Kurona,” he started. “She had, like, black hair. She was nice. She caught a chauffeur on her way home.”

_Kurona?_ “What was her last name?” Amon pressed. It was foolish, he knew. Kurona was a common name. There was no way.

Hide pondered this. “Uh . . . Kurona, Kurona . . . Yasuhisa, I think. Yeah. Yasuhisa Kurona.”

_Yasuhisa Kurona._

“She had black hair?” Amon pressed. In his memory, she had brown hair. She was youthful and talented with her twin sister.

Until she’d disappeared.

“Yeah,” Hide said. “She had like, a fringe. I think she had a small scar under her left eye.” Hide reached up to touch the same spot on his own face. “She was nice, I guess.”

Amon swallowed. “Kurona Yasuhisa is a former CCG student that went missing several years ago.”

In all honesty, he’d expected Hide to look more shocked. Behind the obvious front of surprise, Amon could see the cogs turning in his brain. So he _had_ suspected it, hadn’t he? That there was something dangerous in who he was talking to.

He’d realised it too late, apparently.

“Jesus!” Hide said, sitting up straighter. “But it looked like she was living properly, so—”

“Did she mention anything?” Akira interjected. “Anything personal? What was your conversation like?”

“Well, she wanted me to talk about my family,” Hide said. “She mentioned that she had a sister. After that, the conversation sort of . . . drifted.”

“She does have a sister,” Amon confirmed. “An identical twin, Nashiro.”

“That’s kind of creepy,” Hide admitted.

Hide had seen Kurona. She’d wanted to talk about his family. Why? What was so important about it? If Kurona talked about her sister, then Nashiro was still alive as well. He’d seen her to a car, and she’d left the scene. Was it possible she had contacted the killer? Was it possible that Kurona had been there to ensure that the three would be together?

No, he told himself, he first had to make sure that they were two things that connected to the murders. Whatever had occurred involved a girl that had been listed as missing for years, and then a murder of two teens and an attempted murder of a third.

Maybe Kurona had been the one to call the police. That was an option.

No, if she’d been in the car, then she would have left. She would have, so—

“I think she’s connected to what happened with your friends,” Akira said calmly, delicately. “It’s a very strong correlation, and I’d like to investigate this. You said it was to get Takashi’s uncle—which we’ve found was to stop him from buying a certain company. He was affected by Takashi’s death.”

Silence. One second. Two seconds.

“Then what was her role?” Hide wondered aloud, apparently fine. “You think she has a position in this turn of events, don’t you?”

It was amazing how well Hide could turn his attention solely on a case, Amon remarked. Fearsome, almost, the way he drove a divide between work and whatever he was feeling. “Well, I leave it to you guys,” he said, his tone breezy and casual like usual. “You’re much better than I am at this. Also, the nurse told me I have to stay in some dorm?”

“Yeah, for the crash course, basically,” Akira said. “They’ll do all your measurements, fit you with gear, give you some intensive training and more. You’re required to have a formal meeting with a psychologist at the start and the end of the week to see how mentally fit you are.”

“Oh,” Hide laughed. “Well.”

“Because of your entrance, they’ll probably keep you an extra week. The plan is to accelerate your program and catch up with the current one that graduates at the end of spring. That makes two weeks before you’re sent back into society to make up for about ten months worth of missing training.”

“Am I basically going to a prison?” Hide asked. “Like, for two weeks?”

“Yep,” Akira said. “We’re not allowed to see you, either. No visitors. It’s an attempt to help you bond with the other members in training in preparation for the field.”

“Did you ever go?” Hide asked. “Should I be scared?”

“I entered formally in High School,” Akira said. “Father’s recommendation. None of that was necessary for me.”

“Academy,” Amon supplied when Hide turned to him, only half paying attention to the conversation. Already, his mind was whirring. What could she have to do with this? Where had she been all these years?

Amon didn’t know.

“Your doctor just sent me a message,” Akira said, checking her phone. “They say you’re discharged already. That was fast. You’d better hurry over, because they’re waiting for you.”

Hide grinned. “When I get back, will I be buff?”

“It’s two weeks, not months,” Akira snapped. “Do well and get back to work, Nagachika!”

Hide winked at them. “Sure thing, boss!”

* * *

 

_Kaneki Ken was a killer._

_He was also a smoker. He also did drugs. He also_ dealt _drugs. He did a lot of things that, if someone else had looked upon it, would probably not condone and even try to stop. These were things he could be convicted over. Because of his status, they were things he could be shot over. Shot dead._

_Despite this, Hide had liked him._

_The more time that stretched between seeing him, Kaneki could only feel overcome by guilt. As if he’d failed Hide._

_He’d failed since the start, hadn’t he? Yet Hide had stayed. Hide had waited. Hide was smart and kind enough to not wallow in his self-pity like Kaneki did, and accept Kaneki without even knowing the story. He had asked Kaneki to stay, but Kaneki had still run. He’d still been scared._

_Had he failed Hide?_

_Staring at the empty hospital bed, he could only think he had. When people left him, when people gave no indication nor explanation for leaving, it was usually for only one reason. The same reason as Ryouko._

_That it was unintended. That it was permanent._

_Fuck that, Kaneki wanted to scream. Fuck it. Fuck it all. In the space of two days, Hide had given Kaneki the courage to do what he had been discarding for too long. He’d talked properly to Ayato, he’d rearranged is school life, he’d looked_ forward _to school for the first time in his whole life, all because he had convinced himself someone had asked him to stay._

_Looks like Hide hadn’t convinced himself._

_Kaneki knew it wasn’t fair. He knew it wasn’t smart. There were a multitude of other explanations, each less favourable than the last, could have this same outcome. It could have been anything, and Hide had no way of telling the rest of the world. Not a single way._

_It was his fault. Kaneki should have stayed._

_He should have_ known. _He should have come back, he should have—_

_Was this how Hide had felt, when Kaneki left? When Hide had told him so adamantly that he would ‘wait’, had he felt like this? Kaneki hated it. He hated the feeling. It was a feeling he knew well. One he wouldn’t forget._

_So be it, Kaneki resolved. Watch him be Kaneki. Watch him live this life. Kaneki would wait, this time. He had Tsukiyama to go to Kamii with. Maybe he didn’t know what came after that, but he would at least do that for now. He would work, he would study, and if Hide came back, if Hide would—_

_It didn’t matter whether Hide still liked him, Kaneki realised. He just wanted to tell Hide the same thing. He wanted to let Hide know what he meant to him, just once._

_Maybe Hide would stop him. Kaneki chuckled. Maybe Hide would fix this mess he called himself._

_Just maybe, he could wonder what it would be like to have more than this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so so much for reading this!~  
> i feel like ive been writing some filler-materialesque chapters for a while but fret not shit does actually happen soon i promise  
> thank you all so much for putting up with the plateau we have going with the plot at this time, we are at a little chill point i guess if that exists in tkg  
>  ~~ugh all my grammar has been used up on english essays sorry guys my brain hurts~~
> 
> Before I get around to replying to the comments (I usually do, I know, but damn my life is a mess right now), I would just like to say that 100 chapters is quite attainable, thanks to everyone that has stuck around! Don't even worry, my first ever fanfiction went for 4 years (I started it as a 13 year old what was I thinking jfc. I hope no one here has read it but it was this terrible crossover between divergent and another fandom that just ended up as a massive ooc mess im sorry it came into existence) BUT YES! 100 CHAPTERS! LET'S DO THIS! 
> 
> Depending on how much I deviate from the plan as it goes on we could even get more idk but if we keep it at this sort of pace, around 10-12 chapters per month, then dude we could easily finish by the end of the year or early next year.
> 
> Sorry for rambling on, and thank you all again!


	31. St Jude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hide suffers training camp. Kaneki still feels sad. Stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi its not proofread at all and i wrote it in a hurry because i have so much homework to do for two weeks worth of break that i didnt do because i am a VERY bad student and now I'm doing them all in the next 15 hours so here have the base copy that I'll fix when I get a chance sorry

“Oi, Hide, wake up, sleeping beauty!” snapped the dorm leader, Renji. “Clean yourself up! Morning training starts soon!”

Hide groaned. Fuck, he was tired. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes as if he could reach that piercing fatigue that had only grown during the week behind his eyes. Every muscle hurt. The last six days had been spent doing training. The dreaded ‘morning training’ consisted of a six kilometre run, before a circuit that alternated between aerobic and anaerobic exercises.

Shit, he was sick of it.

Hide let himself stumble out of bed, noting dully how much his legs hurt. _Fuck._ When he tried to grab the steel rails of the bunk to pick himself up, his arms burned. _Ugh._

“Get your sorry arses up! We don’t have much time! Get your gear on, if you haven’t eaten yet, well, suffer.”

Renji enjoyed this far too much. Hide didn’t like to admit he didn’t mesh with people, but he really couldn’t wait to be rid of Renji’s influence in his life. Renji was the top student in the physical fields. He’d joined after quitting his sports team in pursuit of a proper career. His class marks were average—the only thing Hide tied with him at. He knew he’d do better if he could be bothered to focus in class or study, but every day he dragged himself back to bed and passed out almost instantly.

One more week of this, he told himself. One. More. Week.

He pulled on the CCG-issue training clothes he was required to wear. For the first time in his life he had organised a bag with a change of clothes for the classes that came after morning training. Then came the worst part of the day, when he had to put the same sweaty, smelly clothes from the morning on for afternoon training. Then more classes. Then ‘study’ time. Then dinner.

Then some sleep, because fuck staying awake for this.

He tied up his shoes and yawned, following the eight other bleary-eyed trainees. Their dorm was probably the worst, if he was honest, which was why they usually had to wash up. He didn’t know any of these people, and he’d never felt more isolated, because every conversation had him thinking of his mother’s words:

_Don’t rely on anyone. Don’t make friends. The Washuu will use them against you._

What was left, after this, than to go back to his other dorm, where Nishio wouldn’t talk to him and to his classes where he’d sit alone. Properly alone, now, because he didn’t have any more friends.

It was creepy how easily he’d come to accept that fact.

The jog was as painful as always. His legs ached, and after a while, when everything started to just hurt in general, and he couldn’t breathe anymore, well, that was that. Then came the glorious five-minute break where Hide was joined by several others who also threw up on empty stomachs. He knew their names. He knew their stories. They probably knew him, too, but he’d never really made much of an effort. Easy, breezy, complaining and tired. That was his job.

Fuck.

Anaerobic circuits were not fun. Hill sprints. Jump squats. Anything involving jumping and biting at the grass. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It went on and on. It never got easier because it got worse every day.

Morning training finished. Vomit break. Shower time. School. Hide was ahead because he’d already studied Criminal Psychology and Forensic Studies, but he’d never been trained on how to be a _detective._ How to _investigate._ To him, ‘investigate’ was a command term on an exam question that dictated what they wanted as a response. Now, it meant they were taught how to construct those fancy graphs of red string, how to analyse connections, how to organise witness reports or questioning. It should have been interesting. In fact, it probably was.

Hide spent the entire time asleep on a pile of notebooks.

Lunchtime. Blessed, blessed food. This consisted of wolfing it down as fast as possible. Rice, meat, vegetables. Drinks. Anything that would sustain him. Wash up. Do study, if that was possible. At lunchtimes, all students had the option of using the gym. Like that would happen. Hide enjoyed that, because it meant the delightful Renji was out of his hair for a solid hour. Beautiful.

More classes.

Afternoon training. It alternated between weapons training—which Hide lived for, because it meant no running—or gymnasium training, which could be anything from weights to bikes to rowing machines to kendo to self-defence. If he was good at anything at those sessions, he could at least fire a gun in the right direction. Something that the others struggled with, he found.

More classes.

Study time.

Dinner.

Washing up.

Sleep.

Day seven.

For most of them, they were moved on without much fuss to the next stage. For Renji, who failed his final exam check on the studies and Hide, who scraped through, it was another week of the same gruelling routine. The psychologist was calm, nice, someone who Hide didn’t think twice about. Basically all she did was present him with a situation and if he gave an adequate response, that was a pass. Bingo.

Unfortunately, it didn’t mean much because at the end of the week he packed up and moved onto another dorm with, lo and behold, Renji.

One week, Hide told himself. One week.

The only problem was that Renji had been moved onto the same training classes as Hide—the _older_ ones. Because of his full score in the physical component, he was given that chance. He just sat the same classes. Hide, on the other hand, had to deal with that.

Maybe he should have picked officer training, he groaned as he fell asleep.

* * *

 

“There’s been a lot more clashes lately,” Seidou said, handing Amon a case report. “It’s Kaneki again. The GLG is getting pretty open, aren’t they?”

“It’s worrying,” Amon admitted. “Their nighttime crimes may well become daytime at this rate. The distribution of their goods has become commonplace at parties again. It’s like he took a break and is back in action, or something.”

“Maybe he is,” Seidou shrugged. “We’ll have to catch him to find out.”

Amon chewed on his lip. “Is that even possible, though? He’s been on our radar for nearly two years, and we still don’t have a picture of him.”

“Yeah, but an influx of witness statements are coming in, with his new activity,” Seidou said. “The scarf, the hair, the face. It’s hard to miss a guy with white hair going around the city.”

“I’ve heard white hair is actually a trend lately,” Amon said. “That makes life a bit harder.”

Seidou sighed. “I guess. But, like, why? Can you imagine me with white hair, for example?”

“You’d have to be old,” Amon agreed. “Well, it’s just hair. They can do what they want. Looks like Kaneki was quite the trendsetter.”

“Looks like it,” Seidou agreed, sipping the instant coffee from his mug. “Hey, when are those other Investigators coming? Isn’t it this week?”

“Monday,” Amon confirmed. “I still don’t know who they are, though.”

“Trainees?” Seidou wondered aloud. “It could be.”

“No, they’re qualified Investigators,” Amon said. “We just haven’t had a meeting in so long I don’t know who they are.”

“Hmm,” Seidou murmured. “Things are quiet on the CCG side, aren’t they? Despite the gangland war going out there.”

“Do quiet down, boys,” Akira snapped. “Some of us are trying to work.”

* * *

 

Hide, looking back on it, had been lucky to make it through the first week. He’d been so tired that his brain didn’t have the energy to ruin that. Blissful, sleepless nights—

Disappeared.

_“If you can tell me,” said the gunmen, leaning into her, “which one of these boys is Takigawa Takashi.”_

_Satsuki whimpered, trying to press herself back into the wall._

_Hide panicked. This was it. They were dead. They were dead. They were dead. He was dead. Satsuki was dead. Takashi was dead. What was so utterly terrifying was the way Hide felt so powerless._

_“It’s him!” Takashi yelled._

_What? It didn’t go like this! Hide wasn’t—he wasn’t Takashi._

_The next second, skipping the details, Hide was being held close to Takashi’s face while the gunman pressed a gun to his head. Shit. This is where Takashi died. Where was Hide’s knife? Where was the knife? He could change this, he could change this—_

_There was no knife. He couldn’t move._

_One shot. The gun had a silencer but it shot a thousand times louder than anything Hide had ever heard. Takashi was dead. Takashi was dead._

_The same image of Satsuki’s face, turned away from him and pressed into the ground appeared. He studied the way the perfect drop of blood dripped from her lashes, somehow untouched by the rainwater. Pure, pure red. Like a jewel._

_This time, the gunman stood above him. The metal didn’t feel like anything when he pressed it against Hide’s head. Hide didn’t have the nerve to move. All he could do was look at this man in the eye. The man who had killed his friends. The man who had ruined it. His everything._

_“What are you waiting for?” Hide whispered. “Just shoot.”_

Hide woke up, breathing hard. He pressed a hand over his mouth to hide the noise. The room was deadly quiet, touched only by the whispers of the breathing of six other people. His eyes stung, and his cheeks were wet. Shit.

It didn’t matter how disjointed it had been. It didn’t matter. It had been too real. Bile rose in his throat, his mind replaying the images, over and over. Hide stumbled through the dorm, looking for the bathroom. He reached it, closing the door and slumping against it, desperately trying to hold in the acid rising up his retching throat.

The toilet. He flicked on the light and threw himself at it, emptying what felt like his whole stomach as it churned. Blood. There had been so much blood, and there had been so much _death._

The fan whirred, and Hide spat. He’d become far too used to throwing up from exhaustion to even be disgusted by it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and flushed, making sure to clean it properly. What was next? What did he have to do next to compose himself?

He stood by the sink, still shaking and his heart thumping, looking at himself in the mirror. His face was pale and blotchy with red. What a mess. He turned on the tap, scrubbing at his face with his hands before reaching for his toothbrush. He had one more week. He only had to make it through one more week.

Six nights. Six more times, he had to brave sleep.

Hide rinsed his mouth, confident he’d removed any traces of this episode. Only six.

That wasn’t counting if he went back to sleep now.

Hide looked out of the bathroom door, squinting to see the clock on the far side of the small kitchenette. About two in the morning. People would be waking up in three hours to get ready for training. Others, like Hide usually was, would be sleeping for that extra blessed hour.

Sleep sounded good, he told himself. There was no way this could go wrong. None. He turned off the light and padded back to his bunk in the dark. It was just a nightmare. There was nothing wrong with him. It was bound to happen eventually, so he should just make do.

When he looked in the bathroom mirror again at four o’clock in the morning, he regretted that decision.

* * *

 

“How are you, Nagachika?” the dorm therapist, the one that was meant to give them a check at the start and end of every week, greeted him as he walked in. She was chirpy and happy, but Hide was well aware that she didn’t stay with a place as bloody as the CCG without some sort of strength.

“Tired,” he said, laughing. “I never realised I was so unfit.”

She smiled timidly. Politely. “The CCG will do that to you. Now, your case file says that you were admitted after being injured.”

“Yes,” Hide confirmed, trying to be serious and not give off any bad signs at the same time. He knew the whole point of these people was strongly related to the fact he hadn’t slept in two days, but the last thing he wanted to do was confide in someone like _this._ Not the way he was now. Not the way he was being held captive, almost, at the CCG. It was the sort of problem he wanted to talk about once he’d conquered it. Or something.

How naïve.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” she asked gently. “It’s up to you to decide, but it _is_ my job, and I am qualified to discuss it with you. Everything in this room is strictly confidential, of course. No one gets to see in.”

_No one except the Washuu. And everyone else important. And probably my superiors as well._

“I’m okay,” Hide grinned, careful to keep his hands on his knees. “If I ever need a hand, I’ll let you know.”

“Well, if you say so,” she said. She shuffled her papers for a moment. “But you know, sometimes it can affect your sleeping pattern. A good thing to do is listen to some music. The CCG gives a few earphones and devices you can use on loan. I recommend it.”

“Will do,” Hide said. He didn’t really know if he’d walked into her trap or not, because her smile didn’t change.

* * *

 

Hide brushed his teeth, tired. It was one-thirty. Only three more nights after this, and the thought of going to sleep only got worse. Every night, he was in the same scene, but something would change. It became more and more real every time, and Hide failed worse and worse every single time.

He rinsed and spat. Dried his face. He wouldn’t do the same thing this time. This time, he walked over to the table, pulled out his notes, and studied for the first time in his life. Less than five minutes in he decided that he was grateful he never had, because it was boring as fuck.

Following the psychologist’s advice, he put on some ear buds and listened to the playlist called ‘Popular’. He studied, trying to zone out. The words were distracting. He found himself following the story instead of the characters on the page. He changed songs. He didn’t want to hear about someone’s love life, or their boyhood, or their individuality. He wanted words, but he didn’t want to listen to them.

English. An English song. It had a beat, an immersing syncopation, and a good set of vocals. He didn’t know many of the words, but he realised what the therapist had meant. It was like listening to a distant conversation, the distant bustle of life to remind him other people were there.

Realising that felt very, very pathetic of him. First nightmares and now this. At least he should be grateful that they weren’t night terrors where he woke the entire dorm. _That_ would be pathetic.

* * *

 

“The grades give the final verdict,” announced the psychologist grandly, handing him a report. “Looks like you scraped through for academic excellence, despite nearly failing it last time. Your physical exam results, well, they pass. Just.”

“Fifty-one per cent,” Hide breathed out, nervous. “You weren’t kidding.”

“They’re not exactly an accurate measure, considering your condition and all, but it _was_ the lowest score in the class, despite the female scores.”

“Loving the positivity,” Hide said through gritted teeth as he smiled. “Does this mean that I get to leave prison camp?”

She smiled back. “Not yet. You have to pass _my_ tests to ensure you’re capable to go out into the field.”

“Oh.” Hide felt his spirits fall. Okay, just one test. She didn’t think he was crazy, did she? Oh crap—what if she did? Even worse, what if she was right? His sleeping had been reduced to three hours a night, sometimes even less. Would that drive him insane in the future?

“Okay, Investigator,” she said. “You’re in a situation where you have the ability to shoot to kill a known and wanted criminal under the _“Kill on sight”_ act. The only problem is that he is holding an underling hostage. Do you shoot both, or convince the criminal to let the subordinate escape?”

 _How is this a question?_ “Do I have more than one underling?” Hide asked. “Because if I had more, then—”

“I respect your attempt to devise a plan,” she said levelly, pen at ready, “but this is a character test. For this, assume that there is only the two of you.”

She was making him choose this? Again? “Save the underling,” he said. “Who cares about the criminal? He’ll live for someone else to shoot.” The words came easily. They were probably the most honest he’d ever been with her.

The psychologist smiled thinly. “Empathy is not a good trait to have in the CCG,” she reminded him. “Official guidelines would say to shoot both.”

“But that’s crazy!” Hide insisted. “Your underlings don’t have to _die_ for you! Why should anyone in that situation at all have to die? That’s not—” Hide bit down on to his lip hard. _Stop talking,_ he ordered himself. _Don’t be so opinionated. What they know they’ll hurt you with._

Were those his words, or his mother’s?

The older woman scribbled down a few notes. “Now, the next scenario,” she said. “Imagine that you meet a high-profile member of a gang outside of that. Their civilian façade, you could call it. What do you do? This is assuming that you know, of course. What action do you take?”

“Do I know before I meet them, or instantly, or—?”

“You discover it,” she elaborated, her thin smile, though unchanging, began to become terrifying to Hide. He’d lived through this situation, and done something _very_ not-CCG. Did she already know? No, no she couldn’t. No one knew.

“You know them as their normal identity, then discover who they truly are. What actions do you take?”

“If they don’t know that I know,” Hide said, “I’d probably report them.”

“If you were a CCG member?” she prompted. “Then what?”

“Arrest them.”

“Nagachika, you have the ability to kill,” she reminded him. “It is the order. Shoot to kill. You are given a gun to use at all times. After a few years of service you are given a special, tailored weapon known as a _quinique._ If you have these, why not use them?”

 _Kaneki isn’t like that,_ he wanted to say. He swallowed hard. This wasn’t anything to do with Kaneki. Why was that so hard to remember?

“High-profile members are sure to have valuable intel on the inner workings of the gang world.” The answer was as fluent as the text in the book. “If I were to kill them, their intel would die with them. Arresting them means we have a better chance of using them not only for this information, but future knowledge of the underworld’s plan.”

Textbook. Normal. Not illegal.

She smiled. “Good.”

Was that it? The end of the test?

“One final question,” she said, putting down her pen and leaning back in her chair. “I’ve been told that you’re the first up in the morning, and that you’ve been borrowing an mp3 player. Have you been following my suggestion?”

Hide weighed up the options of lying. She’d probably see through it. That, and didn’t following suggestions follow a desire to improve? The only problem was that it hadn’t really helped that much. He got that extra hour, but he still woke up.

Just go for it.

“I usually wake up early,” he admitted, ruffling his hair. “I don’t sleep very well, unfortunately. I mean, I’m fine, but my sleeping pattern’s out of whack. Yes, I did follow your suggestion, and I find music very helpful. Yes, I did.”

She grinned. “That’s good to hear! You pass.”

“Thank God,” Hide groaned, throwing himself over the back of his chair. “I’m free!”

* * *

 

Kaneki had established a rhythm with Tsukiyama for attending school. He’d walk in, just in front of the taller man, and take a seat towards the back of the hall. The raised slope of the seats meant he had a greater view of the hall below, and that he could see Tsukiyama’s actions and everyone around him. Most of them were girls, busy fawning over him and asking with genuine concern where he went. Kaneki supposed that was okay. He didn’t recognise any of them down there.

He sat alone. It was just like old times. He took notes, cramming every page full of text to save paper. He couldn’t afford to buy so many notebooks when he had a household to pay for.

Day two. Repeat.

He told himself to stop looking at the door. People hurried past, looking for their room. They were not Hideyoshi Nagachika, about to run in late with an armful of books and breakfast in his mouth, dump his books next to Sasaki Haise and start up a conversation. They weren’t.

Yet Kaneki found himself looking. Waiting. Every shuffle of footsteps drew his attention. Every yell, every conversation, every fleeting glance into the room made his stomach churn, waiting for him. Any second. It could be anyone.

He didn’t come.

The week passed like that, even in Literature. His usual attentiveness had dropped away, and his books lacked any markings. His essays were textbook and repetitive. There was no joy.

God, it felt like he was back in high school.

“You seem down,” Tsukiyama said as Kaneki walked him to his car. “Don’t you have that friend of yours?”

Kaneki shrugged. “He’s not here.”

He went to work. He did the jobs only Kaneki Ken would do and made life worse for the residents of neighbouring wards. He sat in the dark office all night and wasted away. Had his life not changed? Had nothing changed except lingering feelings for a guy he wouldn’t see? Was Hide even real, or had his mind made it up?

No, Tsukiyama knew him. He had to be real. Kaneki was not getting worse.

He came home in the early hours of the morning, made a coffee, and sat down to study. He wrote essays. He left annotations in the margins of books. This was easy. This was routine. He sipped at a hot, bitter coffee, reminding himself that tastebuds existed, and worked by lamplight until dawn.

Then he packed up. He showered. He changed. Touka woke up and put on a civilian face. She covered his hands, his face, his throat. He looked human enough to venture into society. He made them breakfast. He left it on the stove, cooling down for Ayato when he woke up in half an hour. He left.

He picked up Tsukiyama at the car park. He walked them to Tsukiyama’s class, watched him sit down, and then he left. He had so much free time.

He sat down at the same tree he’d run into Hide at. A futile attempt to see him. God, maybe he should give this up. It had been a week.

He didn’t.

He went to class. He walked Tsukiyama home. He went home. He changed. He went to work.

Rinse. Repeat.

Saturday morning, the end of the week, rolled around. No sign of Hide. No one spared a glance at Sasaki Haise, the shy nobody that for once in his life didn’t seem to be asking for trouble from his fellow students. That wouldn’t last. Eventually he’d breathe someone else’s air and get beaten up for it.

That was fine.

He was just Sasaki Haise, after all.

He went home. He went to work. He didn’t study. He did his runs. He made his money. He tried to wash the blood off his hands. He tried to scrape away the lingering smell of iron under his fingernails, out of his scalp. He tried to wash the white out of his hair and the scars from his body.

The water had gone cold. Who was he trying for?

Food was terrible. Rice. It stuck to his mouth like he was eating maggots. Chewy and clumpy and tasting of nothing. He assured Touka it was a good meal. He tried to lose himself in the sense of family. These were the people he worked for. Made money for. Studied for. He tried to listen to Ayato talking about school. He was saying good things. He smiled. He hadn’t started a fight all week. That was great. That was so great.

In Ayato’s shoes, that was great. In Touka’s shoes, that was great. In Kaneki’s shoes, that was great. But in as Kaneki Ken he couldn’t quite remember how it felt great. An abstract splattering of feelings he knew to identify, not react to.

He drank a lot of coffee. He sat in his room alone. He slept. He woke up. Followed routine. Went out. Worked. Came home. Washed it away.

He realised, then, he had done this to Hide. He had left Hide like this for months. It had been one week, and Kaneki didn’t want to go back. He had to. He knew he had to. But this? He had done _this_? He couldn’t care less about slitting throats, but this hurt. He had made someone uninvolved feel this while he had a merry old time being the same catatonic mess he was so good at.

He went to Kamii.

He waited.

* * *

"Nice to meet you!" sung the boy or girl. Amon wasn't sure. They had a small, feminine frame, but their girlish voice and delicate features were disconcerting. "I'm Suzuya Juuzou!"

"Good to see you again, Amon," Shinohara said, his huge frame dwarfing his tiny partner. "I hope to work well with you all."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it! Sorry I can't say more I'm in such a hurry but I'll come back and thank you all properly! Not much really happens but I have like 4 different versions of the next chapter so please be patient because damn I love chapter 32; it is the SHIT.  
> Thank you all so much for everything you do regardless of what that is! Time to work  
> bye! See you soon!  
> PS sorry for all the typos and the parts that dont make sense like I said i havent even looked at what ive written of this i just went with the flow sorry guys i swear ill fix it


	32. Three in the Morning (Aftermath)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dude this some fluffy shit pls enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg im so sorry i havent been on all week my life has been a constant state of panic with my school holy shit  
> i literally have 6 drafts of this and it got darker every time so here have the first version that was fluffy and happy please thats what i wanted it to be

He was lying on the desk when Hide walked in. His face was pressed into his arms, crossed on the stack of textbooks in front of him. His beanie was new, scrunching at his hair. His jumper was big and a pale grey, his shirt its usual creamy white underneath.

He was there.

Sasaki Haise. Kaneki Ken. Two different names that together encompassed the whole that he was. The quiet, dorky boy who read books, and the man wanted by the CCG. The man who had killed gunman, and the same one who had come to see him in hospital. _Him._

Hide couldn’t move.

He watched the man look up, still slumped forward and scanning the room below, until eventually his gaze travelled to where Hide stood by the door, clutching his books to his chest, completely unlike him.

His eyes widened.

They were the same grey eyes Hide had seen that night. With every death that he followed, those eyes came with them. Surely, that had to mean something.

Mutely, Hide walked in. In his mind, he saw what he could be doing. He could be running, yelling, hugging. He could be doing any of that. Why wasn’t he?

He put his books down, the two of them still silent. Hide stared intently at the curling corners of his textbook, of the pressed notebooks beneath them.

“Want to skip class?” asked Sasaki with the same confident lilt as Kaneki.

_“Yes,”_ Hide said, picking up his books. “Let’s get out of here. _Please._ ”

Kaneki gave a wry smile. He hoisted his books and the two of them hurried out before the lecturer could sneak in.

Okay, now was the best time to reinvent himself, Hide assured. He gave Kaneki a smile, who didn’t seem impressed at all. Okay. That was not good. “How do you feel about a playground?”

“I’m not ten years old,” Hide pouted. “Ah, what a poor date spot.”

“No one’s there,” Kaneki said. “It’s not even that far.”

“Kaneki, _this_ is why we aren’t dating yet.”

Kaneki shoved him off, face red. “You only just came back and you’re already dumb.” Hide watched him glare at the ground. “Where were you, anyway?”

“CCG prison camp,” Hide said. “Just you watch, I’m buff now. I would definitely beat you, Mr Notorious.”

“If you say so.” Kaneki fell silent again. Hide fell into step beside him, wondering where on earth they could even be going. Kaneki had said it was a playground, and that it wasn’t far. Odd, because Hide was sure he’d been all over this particular segment of Tokyo, but he’d never seen a playground this close to the university campus.

“You’re not trying to kidnap me, are you?” Hide said, pulling a ninja-like pose. Kaneki sighed beside him, as if he were used to him already.

“No,” he said. “You’re going to have a nap. I may not be good at many things, but it doesn’t takes an expert to tell when you’re tired. And you’re _bone_ tired, Hide.”

“Am not,” Hide said, pouting. “I’m fully energized.”

“Tired,” Kaneki repeated. “Let me guess: a week of less than three hours sleep?”

_Shit._

“You underestimate me,” Hide said, grinning. “I’ve actually had around four.”

“Less than three, then,” Kaneki decided. “For how long? A week? No.” Kaneki looked up at him as they stepped outside, receiving a blast of early-morning sunlight. “A bit more. Eight days.”

“Am I being read?” Hide laughed, smiling. “Damn.”

“I don’t know anything,” Kaneki admitted, “but it only takes one sleep-deprived man to recognize another. You’ve got some serious raccoon eyes.”

“I _do not,”_ Hide insisted, laughing. “You’re so mean!”

Kaneki gave him another of his wry, almost cheeky smiles. “ _This_ is why we aren’t dating.”

Now it was Hide’s turn to go red, and he looked away, ears burning. “Shut up.”

Kaneki chuckled, and Hide whipped back to him as if called. “We’re nearly there,” he said. “You wouldn’t find it if you didn’t grow up with it. There’s the walking path, but on the other side of the trees, there’s another playground. The trees never used to be there, so everyone used to know about it.”

“Everyone?”

Kaneki fell silent. “No one goes here anymore.”

Hide followed Kaneki onto the road, where the boy navigated his way down a bike path. Hide knew this path, he walked it every morning. The familiar stand of sakura trees, their leaves beginning to bloom and cast the area in a glow of pink.

Kaneki ducked between the trunks, and Hide saw a small playground, nestled against an embankment. It had only a set of swings and a large whale, domed and studded with climbing fixtures. Beneath it, Hide knew there was nothing, and kids would play under there, like magicians and sorcerers in a secret tunnel.

Kaneki dropped his books and bag onto the tan bark and climbed up onto the top of the whale. “This is it,” he said. “Nap time.”

“You’re no fun,” Hide repeated, but dropped his bags next to Kaneki’s and climbed up. From their spot, they could see the rising towers of Tokyo city. It was so close, yet it felt like an alien world. They were just ants.

“I spent a lot of time here as a kid,” Kaneki said, leaning back on his hands. “You’re the first person I’ve shared this with.”

If Hide spoke, he felt like floodgates would open.

He said nothing.

He turned his face to the sun, basking in its warmth. Spring. Soon, it would be summer, and his worries would melt away with the heat. He knew it. Over time, maybe the memories would grow distant, and he could forget about it all.

Forget about it all? About Takashi? About Satsuki?

“I know I’m not very good at talking,” Kaneki said, breaking his silence, “but you can talk if you want. About anything.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Hide said, not looking at him. If he looked at Kaneki now, he’d spew it all out. It would all end in tears, and Hide didn’t want that. He’d survived it. He’s survived the CCG. He was now an official Rank 3. He’d go to work tonight, and then he could start getting on that train to Get The Fuck Over It.

“Okay,” Kaneki said. “If you sleep.”

“Like I said, I’m not tired,” Hide repeated. He swung himself forward, turning to look at Kaneki. “I’m—”

Kaneki was staring at him with the intensity of molten steel. Had this been his plan? To make Hide talk? He clenched his jaw shut and looked away. “And ruin a perfectly good outing? You’re terrible, Kaneki.”

“I don’t know about you, but I end up regretting a lot,” Kaneki said quietly. “All the ‘could have’s and ‘would have’s eventually become ‘should have’s.” The words were small enough that Hide felt he would blow them away if he tried to respond to them. “I could have died. I would have died . . . I should have died.”

Hide felt his stomach sinking. That was exactly the way he thought.

“Can we not?” Hide asked. “It’s not a nice topic.”

“I was there, remember?” Kaneki’s voice didn’t change. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t mean. It was . . . gentle. It was weary around the edges like Hide’s textbooks. Worn and curled with age, seen too many lessons, been used too many times. It was the voice of the author long sick of writing their story. “I saw the aftermath.”

“I never would have thought _you_ of all people would ask me to have a heart-to-heart,” Hide laughed. “The humour of it, eh?”

Hide had been scratching at his face again. Kaneki reached out and took his hand in his own. They were warm hands. “You have scabs on your knuckles,” Kaneki murmured. “Who have you been fighting, huh?”

“I always imaged this going the other way, you know?” Hide looked at the tan bark beneath them. “Me asking you this.”

“Maybe if you sleep a little,” Kaneki said, patting his legs. “I’m no lap pillow, but you should sleep.”

* * *

 

“I don’t want to,” Hide said indignantly, squeezing his eyes shut. He took the chance, however, lying down over the other’s legs. He shuffled around so he was lying properly, the sun on his face. “And you can’t make me.”

“Then get off,” Kaneki said, obviously embarrassed. “Don’t just lie there.”

Hide cracked open an eye to see how red Kaneki’s face was. His ears were glowing so hard Hide had to laugh. Kaneki went even redder. “Shut up.”

“Okay, fine,” Hide said. “I’ll sleep.”

If Hide didn’t look at him, then maybe he could tell him. He closed his eyes, the red glow of the sun present even under his eyelids. He breathed out. It was comfortable. It was warm. It was safe.

“I dream about it,” he admitted to the dark. “So I don’t like sleeping.”

Kaneki was a good listener. Hide felt the shift of his breathing remain unchanged. He swallowed. It was meant to be healthy to tell people, right? Then why was it so damn _hard?_

“If I had been smarter,” Hide started, “then I could have saved them. I think that a lot. If I start to tell myself that I won’t forget, that I’ll never fail again, the thought of trying to move on from that is terrifying.”

Silence. Breathing.

“Hey, Kaneki, if Takashi had told the guy that he was actually Takashi, would I have died? Would that mean that Takashi would be alive? Could he have saved Satsuki?”

“I doubt it.”

Hide’s eyes flew open. Kaneki wasn’t looking at him, instead looking at the city far ahead. “You had a weapon, right? That good-for-nothing knife. Takashi didn’t.”

“Don’t say that! You don’t . . . he could have, I’m sure.”

“I don’t really care if he could have or not,” Kaneki admitted. “To me, I only really care that you live.”

Hide bit his lip, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. “But I’m never going to see them again. That’s what gets me. I’m never going to even hear about them again, because they’re gone. They’re gone, and the last thing they have of their life is terror.”

“Being shot in the head doesn’t hurt that much,” Kaneki said. “You die.”

_You’re missing the point!_ Hide wanted to tell. God, he just wanted to scream. Anything. He knew it would go nowhere, that he would feel no better, but he wanted to just scream wordlessly. He wanted someone to blame that wasn’t him that was alive. Someone he _could_ blame.

“How would you know, huh?” Hide said instead, trying to recover his good humour. “Eaten some bullets?”

“I doubt they blame you,” Kaneki said. “I don’t think you even crossed their minds. When you told them to run, they didn’t. They couldn’t hear you. They couldn’t see you. They’d already decided they would die.”

“You don’t— they wouldn’t. They’re not like that. They weren’t like that at all, Kaneki. They weren’t . . .”

“When you think of it,” Kaneki started calmly, “do you think it’s happening to someone else, or do you know it’s you?”

“Are you my therapist?” Hide laughed, cracking a smile. Beneath his hand, he hoped Kaneki didn’t see how hard he was scowling trying to keep his eyes from tearing up. “I know it’s me. I can’t believe it happened a lot of the time, but all I can think of how much it’s _me,_ and how _bad_ I did.”

“Then it’s fine,” Kaneki told him. “You’ll get over this.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I wonder,” Kaneki said. Hide considered lowering his hand to see the boy’s face, but decided against it. “Anything else?”

“I don’t get you,” Hide sighed. “You’re so casual about this.”

“Sorry.”

“That wasn’t—” Hide lowered his hand, and saw Kaneki once again looking out past him. There was something in their quiet moment that seemed to separate from the reality Hide had come to endure. In this one, Kaneki Ken was the quiet student, without a touch of brutality. In this one, maybe Hide was successful at saving people.

Hide studied the line where his shirt collar rubbed against his neck, leaving the slightest trace of makeup. Kaneki had makeup on his neck too? Why?

“Why do you wear makeup?” he asked, breaking the tranquility. “I’m just curious.”

“You’re embarrassing,” Kaneki groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Why would I tell you?”

“Because the delightfully attractive Hide _yoshi_ is asking you.”

“Because I look like death without it. Fine. Stop avoiding the topic! Sleep!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Hide laughed. “Are you gonna fight away my nightmares or something? What if I wake up? Do I get a kiss to make it better?”

“Your nightmares would shit themselves if they came near me,” Kaneki murmured. “Go to sleep, Hide.”

* * *

 

Kaneki, who had long known that reading people was not his forte, had the answers presented to him after a single look at Hide. He knew those lines around the eyes, the familiar pallor to the skin, the same look stance. He knew them all very well.

Seeing them on Hide made him sick to the gut.

Studying him now, with his sleeping face, Kaneki felt a little better after his spell of sleep. Sure, the idea that someone would come through and see them made his face heat up in embarrassment, but he decided to ignore it. Hide wasn’t okay. That meant he should sleep. Kaneki was confident that Hide would do better after he’d slept.

If Kaneki had come sooner, Hide wouldn’t be here like this. He wouldn’t have to be tired. He wouldn’t have had to endure that. If he hadn’t hesitated, he’d . . .

He was such a hypocrite, wasn’t he? Telling Hide not to be like that while that’s exactly what he was. Damn.

This had happened because he had abandoned Hide. If he hadn’t, if he had just . . . he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t make the mistake again. Hadn’t he been told already? That Hide needed him?

Being around him . . . being around him, no matter when, was dangerous. Now Kaneki couldn’t let him stay away for the same reason. He hated choosing. He was so, so bad at choosing. Why? Why was everything a _choice_?

Kaneki stared at the scuffs on Hide’s hands. They were the same scabs that you got from punching. From fighting. From rubbing your hands too much. From washing your hands too much. Why were they on Hide’s hands? Why wouldn’t he just take wounds from people? He’d be fine. It wouldn’t hurt him, so why couldn’t he?

Why did other people have to be hurt?

“Aw, man, I can feel your self-deprecation from here,” Hide groaned, turning on his side in Kaneki’s lap. “Why aren’t we dating?”

“Because I told you to go away and threw sharp implements at you,” Kaneki supplied. “And got you into a giant mess. And, like, a shit ton of other things.”

“Hmm, okay,” Hide mumbled against his leg. “Well, I don’t really care about that, so could you please go out with me?”

* * *

 

“G-G-Go out with you?” Kaneki stammered, shuffling nervously. Hide sat up, staring the other directly in the eyes, which were wide and silver with shock. Damn, he had beautiful eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Why not?”

“But I’m—I’m not—I’ve got all these problems, and, well, I don’t lead a good life, and—”

“I know,” Hide said, nodding. “I know all that. Why don’t we?”

“It’s not that simple!” Kaneki said, gesticulating wildly. “I’ll get you into trouble! You’ll get hurt! Everyone always does, so—”

“Kaneki,” Hide repeated, “I already knew that.”

Kaneki bit his at his lip, looking down. His brow knotted in anguish and confusion. A look Hide never thought he’d see on his face. Slowly, as if not to spook him, Hide reached out and pried the glasses of his face.

Kaneki didn’t look up. “But what will I do if you get hurt? What if I can’t save you? What if—”

“If you don’t want to, I guess it’s fine,” Hide waved him off. “I guess I’ll just go and be sad on my own. Geh.”

“Don’t,” Kaneki said, finally looking up. “But . . . it’s . . . it can’t end well, Hide. It can’t. Not with my life. Not with yours.”

“Then quit,” Hide supplied. “Why don’t you?”

There it was: Kaneki closing up. His eyes lost their spirit. He wiped his face clean. It was terrifying when he did that, Hide realised. Almost like his feelings didn’t matter to himself. “I have to,” Kaneki whispered. “I have no other choice.”

“Sure you do,” Hide pressed on, trying to coax him back out from under his shell. “You have Kamii. You can get a job. I have a job. The CCG pays big bucks when you get to Special Class, you know?”

“No,” Kaneki insisted. “I can’t choose. I have to. I have to do this.”

“Then—”

_“I have to.”_ Kaneki’s hands balled into fists. “It’s not your fault. You don’t know anything. I know. I know. I know. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry. No. I can’t choose, so—”

Without thinking, Hide pulled him to his chest, holding on for dear life. In that face, in that profile, Kaneki held an eternity of pain Hide couldn’t understand. He’d never understand. He didn’t know anything about Kaneki.

He didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“If you have to,” Hide said, “then I can’t stop you. But I want to be there for you. I want to. Because today, you were here for me.” His throat burned, the words stretching past the lump that had grown there. Was he really going to cry here? Really?

“Thanks for the beanie,” he said instead. “I have to hide this terrible hairstyle.”

“Yeah, it looks terrible.”

“Don’t agree with me!”

Kaneki chuckled into the fabric of his hoodie. “Sorry.”

“You’re so mean,” Hide murmured. He noticed the way their bodies fit together. He smelled the strong floral scent of Kaneki’s shampoo. He felt Kaneki’s warmth against him. It felt real. It felt safe. It felt warm.

“Will you tell me one day?” Hide asked. “Your story, I mean.”

Kaneki began to relax against him. “I hope not,” he said. “It’s not something people like to hear.”

“There’s no rush,” Hide insisted. “Even if it’s just a little. I want to know about Kaneki Ken, the guy. Not Kaneki Ken the man CCG keeps tabs on.”

Hide felt the shift of Kaneki’s face through the layers of fabric he wore as he gave that familiar, wry smile. “Only if you believe in ghosts.”

Hide ran a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar softness. “Maybe I do,” he said. “Is that so bad?”

Hide didn’t even register the seconds before Kaneki’s lips were on his. It was the same kind of burning intensity as when they’d first met. “No,” Kaneki whispered between kissing him. “No, it’s not.”

Kaneki’s weight pushed Hide onto his back, still balanced on the whale. The jolt knocked them apart, and Hide was left staring up, dumfounded, into pink face.

Hide couldn’t help it; he grinned. And Kaneki grinned back.

Thank God, Hide thought, for Kaneki Ken.

He reached up and their lips met again, messy and knocking, teeth bumping and an ungraceful mashing of faces, but it felt right. Hide took Kaneki’s head in his hands, letting his fingers run through the soft hair, his fingertips skimming over small scars in his scalp. _Thank you, thank you, thank you._

He felt Kaneki’s hands travel down his shirt, and Hide—fucking hell, he was such a child—wriggled because it fucking _tickled._

This wriggling caused them both to lose their balance, and they rolled down the side of the whale, hitting the ground below in a tangle of limbs.

Blinking away the shock, Hide stared into Kaneki’s face again, this time blank in surprise. Hide laughed, and soon the two of them turned into a snickering, giggling mess on the grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHH i hope you liked that
> 
> yeah the next few chapters are just fluffy messes so yeah  
> maybe smut but idk i dont think im good enough but lets see how the flow goes if u get me
> 
> i feel like it made you all too excited for this; im sorry. i didnt know how to make it as perfect as i imagined it so like im (probably irrationally) disappointed. but i hope you still liked it!
> 
> sorry for the weird notes im actually on a training camp atm and boi am i tired
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos if you wanted to, or leaving a comment, because you're all amazing and thank you all so much for taking the time to do that!  
> See you soon!


	33. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i tried fluff but oh wait its angst but pls believe theres fluff at the end i swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey look it's me hi  
> i tried to write some fluff for you all but angst is my best suit so yknow i still tried maybe you'll enjoy  
> I'm in another one of my hurries i won't say a lot but  
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE RESPONSE TO LAST CHAPTER! It was so awesome I literally woke up to 11 comments and like 15 kudos thank you all so much.

They would part, Kaneki knew. The class would finish, and they would run off and live their own lives. Something Kaneki wasn’t so sure he wanted to return to yet, if ever. When he returned Hide’s smile, he remembered how good and _real_ it felt. Rare smiles, to valued people from _Before,_ when he valued it. The feeling of another hand in his, completely _safe_ and returning the warmth Kaneki knew, despite everything he told himself, was affection.

He didn’t want to be tired, for when his eyes were closed he would miss a moment of their time. He didn’t want to forget a second, because Kaneki already felt like he knew how it would end. It would always, always end. He’d be left. It was inevitable. It wasn’t unreasonable.

But he wanted to remember it all the same.

He wanted to believe it was infinite.

They’d snuck back in, still stifling their immature giggling at the end of the lecture, hearing about some task. Under the desk, Hide kept a firm hold of his hand. Kaneki didn’t even listen to the words, instead forcing his eyes onto the pages of his notebook, despite glancing to the side and seeing Hide doing the exact same thing.

God, what was this? How old was he? Was he forgetting who he was? Was he neglecting the ghosts in the room? His ghosts? Was he forgetting that at the end of the day, his life had not changed, there was just an extra addition?

Would that change his life?

There they were: doubts. How familiar a place to find himself. Hide must just be pitying him. Maybe this was his way of repaying a debt. Surely, no one could spare a second to care about him. That was the way of the world. The weak are trampled underfoot by the strong. They are destroyed.

They are devoured.

“Hey, Kaneki,” Hide’s voice, bubbly and happy, despite what Kaneki knew was still inside his head, broke through his thoughts. “What’s your favourite movie?”

 _Movie?_ Kaneki could count the movies he’d gone and seen with a single finger: _The Conjuring,_ with Hide. Some of his favourite books had been made into movies, but he’d never seen them. Was this a normal thing to ask?

“Why do you ask?” Kaneki responded, trying to be casual. He propped his head onto his hand, a hand under his chin. Casual. His right hand, safely clasped in Hide’s, had grown cold. Fuck, what did ‘casual’ even mean? When he glanced at Hide’s face, the other didn’t look impressed with his attempt. Was he that readable?

“I’m just curious,” Hide said. “I couldn’t choose one, I think, but horror movies aren’t my forte. Besides, I want to know about _you_.”

Kaneki felt heat flood into his face. It wasn’t even that bad a statement, but the sheer fact that he existed in his state of natural being was the most shameful part. “The CCG knows about me.”

“You’re no fun,” Hide sighed dramatically. “Like, what’s your favourite colour? Can we start there? Or what about your favourite food? Book? Pastime? Dreams?”

Colour? Food? Past-time? Did Hide realise what he was asking?

No, Kaneki realised as he studied the other’s lazy smile, Hide knew exactly what he was asking.

“I don’t really know what my favourite colour is,” Kaneki admitted, “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Then, what do you think it is? Personally, as a man of great colours, I like orange. Typical, I know.” Hide grinned, obviously proud of himself. Kaneki couldn’t help the smile he returned. It was infectious around Hide.

His favourite colour? That seemed like the best one to answer, compared to food or past times. “I guess . . . I like brown. Or, just dark colours—like coffee brown. That sort of colour, or maybe a lighter brown, like burnt caramel . . .” his face heated up as he realised what he was saying. The colour of Hide’s eyes, the familiar shade of burnt caramel he had thought far too much about to be comfortable admitting. Shit.

Was he forgetting who he was?

Hide stifled a laugh with his hand. Kaneki could basically see the red glow of his skin from embarrassment. Goddamn.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” Hide was grinning. “What even are you?”

Kaneki could have shrunk into his chair. “Shut up,” he muttered. “What’s your favourite food, then?”

“Hamburgers,” Hide said without hesitation. “Speaking of which, there’s this place I heard about called _Big Girl,_ and we should totally go there one day.”

“Hamburgers.” The food brought back a tangle of memories: his mother’s cooking, the feeling of it on his tongue, but he was sure it tasted like something. He couldn’t remember what, though. They were warm. To him, those moments of love and kindness from his mother went the world.

Because when she wasn’t—

“I like hamburgers too,” he murmured. “I haven’t had them in a while, though.”

“Come with me!” Hide was excited now, talking louder with the bustle of people rising to leave the room. “We can go now! I’m on break.”

Food. The thought of it made Kaneki sick to the stomach. He could barely eat it normally, so how would he force himself through a meal in public? Shit.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine,” Hide said hurriedly, sensing his discomfort. “I mean, it’s up to you. You probably have things to do, don’t you?”

“I have to look after Tsukiyama,” he said. “I’m his . . . minder.”

“Minder,” Hide mused. “Well, if he comes with us, then we can go, right? Do you have more classes after this?”

“I have Literature at night,” Kaneki said, shuffling his books with his free hand. Seeing this, Hide released his hand slowly. God, Kaneki hated himself. Hide was so _good,_ and he was so _bad,_ and he couldn’t find a way to fix that.

If it were night, and if he were working, he’d be thinking the opposite. Fuck.

“So . . .” Hide draped himself over the desk, staring at the ceiling. “Wanna come? I’ll pay.”

“You will not,” Kaneki said calmly. “I am.”

“No, I am.”

“Me.”

_“Me.”_

_“Me.”_

_“Me!”_

“ _Monsieurs_ , what is happening?” Tsukiyama appeared behind him, dressed in his outrageous clothes and finally shaking off the people who wanted to keep him company. Kaneki sighed, straightening the heavy glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Hide has invited us to lunch,” he said. “I will be paying. Because I can’t leave you, you can come.”

God. It was hilarious how fucking different he was at different times of the day. He couldn’t keep this up. Could he?

“Are you sure about this, Kaneki?” Tsukiyama stooped to whisper in Kaneki’s ear. “Does he know? I’m not against it, but the odds are—”

“He knows,” Kaneki said simply, his tone too sharp for the appearance of Sasaki Haise. Internally, he winced. Sasaki Haise was meant to be shy, kind, soft-spoken, everything Kaneki wasn’t.

So why was he speaking with his usual voice?

Hide had turned away politely, choosing instead to bag his textbooks. They could go out. They could. It wouldn’t be the worst experience of Kaneki’s life, and—

“Whoa, dude, I’m sorry. I just remembered that I have CCG work now!” Hide stood abruptly, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry!”

Kaneki hated himself for the relief he felt. God, he hated himself.

Why did Hide have to leave?

“It’s fine,” he said, stretching his face into a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hide grinned, saluting. “See you!”

Kaneki watched Hide exit the door before standing. “What’s this about, Kaneki?” Tsukiyama asked. “This can’t go well.”

“I know that,” Kaneki said softly, packing his books. “I know.”

* * *

 

Hide had been lying.

He didn’t have work until that night, but seeing the discomfort in Kaneki’s face as soon as the topic of food was brought up was enough to make him feel terrible. When Tsukiyama had came up, and Hide saw Kaneki willing to put him through something uncomfortable, Hide made the call: he ran.

It was pretty trashy of him, wasn’t it?

Food. It was something Kaneki had been averse to before. The first thing was the muffin, months and months ago. Back then, Sasaki Haise had told him that it was just that he didn’t like the flavour, but what if it wasn’t? When they went to the movies, Haise had again refused even a single kernel of popcorn. What was so bad about food?

Hide walked to the train station, just in case Kaneki was tailing him. In all honesty, he didn’t put the idea out of his head: it was definitely his new ‘boyfriend’ would do.

It sounded so weird to even think that. Still, that’s what they were, right? They were going out, apparently.

They were starting slow, it seemed.

Standing amidst the group of students, Hide pressed a finger to his lip in thought. Not so long ago, Kaneki’s had been on his. Hide felt his face grow red at the thought. God, why was he so ticklish? Fuck.

Stay focused, he reminded himself. The food issue. Hide ran through the possibilities: Kaneki _did_ work in a very violent occupation, so an old injury was possible. Brain damage? Hide remembered the scars on his scalp, buried beneath all that white hair. Stark, white hair. It was possible. In fact, it was very possible. That, or maybe Kaneki had some other issue that made the act of eating uncomfortable for him.

He _had_ seemed fine bringing up the idea with Tsukiyama, though. Shit, that man was creepy. When he talked to Kaneki directly, he seemed fine, almost normal—but as soon as he looked at Hide, it was someone else. That alone didn’t set Hide on edge, it was just the way he screamed snake oil merchant with that French lilt and flourishing actions. Jesus, he gave Hide the heebie-jeebies.

That and he was, like, twice Hide’s size.

Shit.

The worst part was that the same switch could be flicked in Kaneki. When he spoke to Hide, he had the same demeanour as Sasaki Haise, if not a little more talkative, but when he was with that other guy, it was like he was someone else. Someone Hide hadn’t seen yet. Someone Hide was sure Kaneki didn’t want him to see.

Kaneki Ken, the dangerous member of Tokyo’s underground wasn’t a mythical figure, and he had to remember that.

Because Hide had already decided to save him.

It was clear that Kaneki was part of a world Hide would never see. He and Tsukiyama, and he was sure with many other people, were part of a big group that Hide would forever be excluded from. Hide would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel the slightest bit left out, but it was clear from meeting Touka that she didn’t want him there. She agreed: Kaneki deserved better.

Black hair. White hair. The thought of eating with company made him uncomfortable. Black nails. Scars on his scalp and hands—Hide had seen them, the same scars on his knuckles that Hide had developed, but it was clear who had them longer.

That, and the mystery that was Kaneki Ken’s neck. It was more or less exposed with shirts, but even then he wore makeup. What did Kaneki have to hide? Was it actually a tattoo? According to the CCG records, however, he had no official affiliation with any group, so what could he be hiding?

This was all based off the assumption that Kaneki used the makeup to hide the seriously bad health on his face. If Hide had raccoon eyes, then Kaneki’s would be fucking black holes. Did he even sleep? Ever? Why?

Why not?

God, there he went again. Maybe he should just _ask_.

He doubted Kaneki would actually tell him, though. He’d do the same thing: retreat into his shell. For all Hide knew, it was warranted. Hide didn’t really know anything about the guy.

Absently, he climbed onto the train. There was one more thing: the nails. Sometimes, they were black, and other times they seemed normal. Did Kaneki paint them? Black, for aesthetics? No, Hide doubted Kaneki was that petty.

Were his nails naturally black, then? What the hell could cause that? A disease? An injury?

Okay, Hide thought to himself, he’d been taught to do this. The CCG had taught him the common ways to find links, to solve cases. First, once the facts have been analysed, create possible scenarios. Using these as assumptions, create an ideal scenario where all these connections tie up. That was Hide’s abridged version, because most of them required asking other people, and Hide didn’t have that luxury, because while Touka had known him before, she didn’t know _why._

Was this an invasion of privacy? How would Kaneki deal with Hide knowing?

He wouldn’t, because Hide wouldn’t let it change anything. He’d be the one to look after Kaneki this time.

“Ah—excuse me!” Hide stared down, finally aware that he’d bumped into someone. They had fair, almost-white hair, large red eyes and a doll-like face. Hide was taken aback by their sudden appearance. It was an unnerving shock to find someone who looked like that. Not helping it were the red stitches on the bottom lid of their right eye and the red pins holding their fringe back.

In the split second once-over he gave him, he noticed the bright polka dot shirt, suspenders and loose pants over slippers, along with continued red stitches, arranged in tiny x-shapes, running down their throat and arm. Their entire being was small, but Hide was more than cautious.

“No, no, it’s my fault,” Hide insisted. “I’m sorry.”

“CCG!” the other cried, grinning. Hide realised he was stumped: their figure, their face and their voice were all quite feminine, but they was dressed like a man. “You’re working at the CCG, right? I’m Suzuya Juuzou, nice to meet you!”

It wasn’t a particularly masculine name, either. They sung it, voice lilting and cheery, almost birdlike, but Hide was at a loss. There was nothing predictable or conforming with the person he’d just met. Hide watched him pull his ID from his front pocket, ad Hide saw the same rank as his own: Rank 3.

“Nice to meet you too, Investigator Suzuya,” Hide said, grinning. He reached for his ID, but saw it was already gone from his pocket. Suzuya held it up to his face.

“Hideyoshi, right?”

Crap. How had Hide got pick-pocketed so easily? He’d have to be more careful. “That’s me,” he smiled. “But ‘Hide’ is fine. Which ward do you work in?”

“I got transferred last week,” Suzuya smiled, doll-like face smiling serenely. His skin had the same paleness as Kaneki’s, Hide realised. In fact, he had the same dark eye sockets as Kaneki too. God, seeing so many similarities to Kaneki in a stranger could _not_ be a good thing. “I work in the 20th ward.”

“Same!” Hide held his hand out for a shake, and Juuzou took it, grasping surprisingly hard. “It’s a pleasure to work with you!”

 _Are these the recruits Amon mentioned? They took a while to get here. Who’s his superior? A Rank 3 isn’t allowed to go around alone. Even worse, if he_ is _a Rank 3, why didn’t I see him at the academy? Why wasn’t he part of my class?_

_Is he an exception?_

Yeah, Hide rationalised, he probably was.

“You can have this back now,” Suzuya said, handing Hide back his ID. Hide didn’t like the mischief in that face. “Be sure to look after it!”

_You wouldn’t want to lose that._

Their parting was weird. Suzuya literally turned and walked away without a word, disappearing into a sea of people. His gait, Hide realised, was smooth, but there was a stiffness to one of his legs. What was that about? It was definitely related to him being an exemption from academy classes, so maybe he’d been injured? But then, why hadn’t the CCG used that special treatment on him to grow back limbs?

He should research that.

After, Hide decided, he bought a new phone. It felt far too spur of the moment, but he’d been meaning to for weeks and now he had a moment to himself to actually buy the thing. He kept a cautious hand on all his valuables as he did.

Once he had a phone, he was definitely going to spam both of Kaneki’s phones with texts.

* * *

 

It was nearly two in the morning when Kaneki’s phone rang. Not his school phone, _his_ phone. The one with no contacts and no numbers, only short text messages for his work. It was ringing with an unknown number.

“Hello?” he said, picking it up. He was sitting at the bar again, the small group of members who he’d never actually spoken to barely talking. Who would be calling? Touka? Ayato?

“ _Kaneki!_ ” Hide’s voice screamed through the speakers. Kaneki jumped, instantly trying to smother the mic from the other people in the room. How did Hide get that number? Why did Hide have this number?

“What?” Kaneki hissed into the phone. “Now isn’t a good time!”

“ _Are you free on Wednesday?”_ Hide asked, completely unfazed. Kaneki gave a cautious glance over his shoulder, no one was paying attention to him, it seemed. Still, it wasn’t safe to relax. He’d be putting Hide in danger by letting them so much as hear his voice.

“Yes,” Kaneki said. “I am. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

“ _No, I have to check now,”_ Hide protested. “ _Amon wants me to work an extra shift this week, and I was hoping Wednesday night movies are still a thing.”_

Hide wanted to plan a fucking _date_? Did he realise Kaneki was sitting in one of the most dangerous rooms in the whole fucking _city_?

“Yes, it is. Fine. Please hang up.”

“ _Yeah!”_ Kaneki could imagine Hide giving himself a fist-pump. Jesus. “ _Well, I hope you’re happy to come to my dorm on Wednesday. Nishio won’t be in, anyway. Don’t try and run away from our date with destiny, Kaneki!”_

He hung up.

Kaneki defiantly didn’t look up to see Uta’s smirk. He knew that Uta wouldn’t have heard the phone, but the fact that he’d seen Kaneki talking in an outrageously _friendly_ way was sure to pique his curiosity.

If Kaneki told him he couldn’t come in on Wednesday, then Uta would know. If he rang Uta on Wednesday and said he couldn’t come, Uta would probably remember what had happened because he was that kind of guy.

Sometimes Kaneki wished he could call in sick. It would make a great excuse.

Wait, had Hide said his dorm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I will be back in a few with some new content! Let's watch these dorks have a movie night   
> Oh hey any movies you want to see them watch like legit all I have so far is The Notebook and I think we need some more
> 
> I'm not sure how many people feel about addressing Juuzou's gender, but it's a bad habit of mine to see him as a boy, so that's why he's got some 'him' pronouns. Sorry if y'all get angry at me I can't help it.
> 
> Not sure how i did with Suzuya's character but well  
> yknow
> 
> Thank you all again!


	34. Backyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idiots being idiots and jesus i hope its okay writing pls enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's been like two weeks I am SO sorry jesus christ  
> thank you all so much for your patience! im really so sorry but i hope u like this now because i made it 1000 words longer for youse  
> this is a raw unproofread mess but i hope its okay ill fix it i promise if it isnt. EDIT: i proofread it. pls enjoy now.

“No, don't move,” Touka hissed, prodding at his face with her trusty make-up brushes. “We can’t have you coming in Death couture to a _date._ ”

“It’s not like that,” Kaneki insisted, already realising it was a losing battle. “We’re just watching movies.”

“Yeah, right,” Touka smirked. “ _Just_ watching movies.”

She let him tilt his head back, dabbing over his throat with the concealer, followed by the expertly-chosen foundation (by her own methods) to cover the whole area. Throughout the whole process, she was careful not to let her skin touch him. It was just the sponge and brushes. That was all.

That was the best way to do it.

“Okay, you can button it up. You’re good.”

“Thank you,” he said, carefully pulling the collar over his neck. Touka busied herself with sorting out the dirty brushes, looking for the cleaning spray. She’d made a fuss about Kaneki visiting him in hospital, but she’d be lying if she actually considered a reality where Kaneki went to someone’s house like a _normal_ person.

Wow.

“So, what’s the game plan?” Touka fought the smugness out of her voice. She _was_ smug. At last, she was pushing him in the right direction. She didn’t know half of the shit Kaneki had actually done, but she knew none of it was for the faint of heart. She was so used to seeing him so dead inside that the past few weeks, when he had been so _full_ in general, getting embarrassed and smiling and talking, studying hard and admitting that he was tired at breakfast—these were all things she had only ever hoped for.

It almost made her jealous that one boy had accomplished in a few weeks what she had been trying to do for years.

“Movies, I guess,” Kaneki said, standing. “Apparently I have a very poor film education.”

“That happens when you can’t afford a television,” Touka couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Now, get the fuck out of here. Don’t you dare me late to your first date.”

“It’s not a date!” Kaneki repeated, sighing. He headed to the door. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“If you’re lucky, it’ll be tomorrow,” Touka snickered. “Oh, but, yeah, movies are important too. Maybe.”

Kaneki didn’t say anything, only pouting to himself. “Not a date,” he muttered to himself.

“Oh, are you going on a date?” Ayato appeared from his room, rubbing his eyes blearily. He’d fallen asleep. “With who? Why? When?”

“It’s not a date!” Kaneki groaned.

* * *

 

Hide didn’t even try and lie to himself: he’d stood in front of the door, looking at his phone, for a solid thirty minutes before the bell was rung. After he’d finally shoved Nishio out the door for his night with Kimi at her apartment, cleaned up the place as best he could, dug up every movie worth watching and tested to make sure the signal actually came through the TV, he’d walked to the door, pulled out his phone, and waited.

Was that desperate? That was pretty desperate, wasn’t it? Goddamn.

He’d given a half-assed attempt to clean up his room, which basically mean straightening the pile of books and papers on his desk, making his bed, and cleaning up all the undies and socks off the ground, as well as chucking the dirty clothes into stolen Laundromat hampers.

It wouldn’t get any cleaner, and he knew it.

He felt as if he was staring at his texts, waiting for anything. Half of him was terrified that he’d get a text saying that Kaneki wouldn’t be coming.

Then the doorbell rang, and he threw it open the instant it started.

“Kaneki, my dude!” he yelled, grabbing the other’s shoulders. “Are you ready for some serious movie-watching?”

Kaneki was dressed thoroughly as Sasaki, right down to the glasses. His shape wilted under Hide’s explosion of an entrance before he relaxed, smiling nervously. “I guess . . .”

_Can I kiss him?_

“Well, come on in. It’s kind of gross, sorry. That and neither of us can cook, so it’s probably going to be some take-out for dinner. Is that cool with you? Wow, I’m sorry this is such a bad date.”

Kaneki only nodded, and Hide felt the relief instantly. His hunch had been right: Kaneki was very averse to eating. He didn’t look emaciated, which meant he ate, but then maybe eating in front of people was the problem after all.

One mystery solved.

“Well, there is a couch, there is a television, and we have this thing called the Internet to choose every movie in the world from.” Hide tapped on the computer hooked up to the TV to prove his point. “Any requests?”

Kaneki sat himself down on the couch, crossing his legs under him. “Um, no?” Hide watched for a moment too long as he took off his glasses and beanie, placing them on the coffee table in front of him. Hide turned back to the computer, tapping the plastic in thought.

“Well,” he mused, “I guess we’d start with the classics.”

“Classics?”

“Disney, Kaneki! Disney!” Hide searched through the possible films. “Where to start . . . ?”

“I was told that _Frozen_ was good,” Kaneki interjected. “It has ‘good music’ apparently.” He made quotation marks as he spoke. Hide could only grin back. Kaneki was there, in his dorm, on the couch where Hide spent far too much time asleep.

“Some great sing-along material,” Hide affirmed, pulling it up. “Good start. You must join in the ways, Young Kaneki, of singing along.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Kaneki said quickly. “I’m not good at singing.”

“Nope, you have to.” Hide hit the play and dropped down on the couch beside Kaneki. “It’s mandatory. It’s also kind of inevitable that you start singing the words anyway.”

“What is this, a disease?” Kaneki smiled, amused. “Fine then.”

They lapsed into silence as the film started, with its icy credits montage.

“What a good ice-breaker,” Kaneki said suddenly.

Hide had to stifle his tears from the terrible pun.

Kaneki didn’t do a lot of singing, but when Hide was basically screaming the words out, Kaneki hummed along.

That was enough.

“Ah, good times, good times.” Hide made a show of wiping tears from his eyes. “So moving. I am moved on a spiritual level.”

“I guess you could say it gave me chills,” Kaneki offered. It took Hide a very, very long second to get it.

“Punny.”

“I aim to be cool-headed.”

“Stop.”

“Ice cold.”

“ _Kaneki.”_

“It’s okay, that whole movie had some ice for these burns.”

“Argh!” Hide covered his face with his hands, sighing. “Goddammit, Kaneki.” He dragged his hands down his face, unable to flatten out his smile. He looked across at Kaneki, and the two of them burst out laughing.

“You’re the worst, Kaneki,” Hide laughed, giving him a shove as he stood. “Okay, okay. Great one, Ice King. Now for the next Disney movie, I decided to go for a little history, now. _Aladdin.”_

“More singing,” Kaneki noted, and Hide grinned.

“We’ll have you singing in no time, Mr Kaneki, just you wait. Disney is a disease. You can’t help it. You’ll wake up in the night singing it in your sleep.”

He heard Kaneki’s snort of amusement behind him as he loaded up the second film. Apart from Hide having to pretend he didn’t see how uncomfortable Kaneki was in the clothes he had worn, it was a good date. Great, even. Hide’s hypothesis had been right: after dark, Kaneki was a lot more talkative. That wasn’t a bad thing, in fact he lived for Kaneki’s puns, even if he’d never admit it. (But seriously, some _were_ terrible, and he wouldn’t defend those unless he really needed to.)

This left him with only one problem: Kaneki not being awkward as fuck in clothes. Solutions?

Oh boy, did Hide have many solutions, but he doubted that they would go down well at 8pm at night. No, it was still early. He had to be mature. Intelligent. Mature. Very mature.

“Pyjamas!” he yelled, swinging around. “We need pyjamas!”

“What?”

“This is a movie marathon,” Hide insisted, “therefore, it is necessary that we sit in blankets in pyjamas and eat shit all night long. Necessary.”

Kaneki, bless his soul, looked hopelessly lost. _“What?”_

Hide grinned. To be honest, he had expected this. He hated to admit that, but he had. Taking Kaneki’s life and his suspected upbringing into account, Hide had found it unlikely that he’d ever had a movie marathon before, unlike Hide who as a positive movie marathon hoe when it came down to it. He’d go, no matter the type or people. As he got older, the tone of them changed, but he still went. Movie marathons were important, dammit.

“You brought pyjamas, right?” Hide asked. “Or is that too childish? Damn. I hadn’t thought of that. No matter! I’ll lend you clothes. You stay right there, Model Clothes.”

Kaneki’s face went red, and he began to stammer excuses as Hide made his way to Nishio’s room, where he’d go through the remains of his cleaning scrambles. “Wow, first date and I’m already seeing you in a boyfriend shirt. I’m impressing myself, Kaneki.”

“You don’t need to,” Kaneki insists. “Really, it’s fine. Don't worry yourself over me, it’s—” he stopped as Hide chucked a pair of tracksuit pants and a baggy t-shirt over his shoulder.

“I think that t-shirt is one of Nishio’s that I stole by accident,” Hide said. “Sorry. Now, let’s find you a jumper.” Hide dug through the layers of clean-smelling cotton. “Hoodie? Jacket? Is it cold, Kaneki?”

“Hide, it’s really—”

“Found one!” It was Nishio’s unfortunately, but Nishio had probably stolen far more things of Hide’s already for him to care. It would probably be subjected to the roommate cycle anyway, and end up in Nishio’s hamper again. He shoved the bundle into Kaneki’s arms, who was thoroughly embarrassed now. Hide only grinned. “You’re welcome,” he said, trying to bat his eyelashes like the Disney princess currently on the screen with her tiger. “Do I get a thank you kiss?”

Kaneki pouted and turned away sharply, heading to the bathroom. “Maybe later.”

* * *

 

‘Maybe later’ appeared to include three more Disney films, the rest of the crash course Hide had planned, and then some. Kaneki, now geared in baggy, oversized clothes, enjoyed the evening a _lot_ more, which Hide was glad about. That, and Kaneki had made sweater paws at one stage unknowingly and Hide couldn’t _deal_ with that.

“So, the purpose of having sing-along fairy tales with conventionally attractive characters is to inspire the imagination of children,” Kaneki mused. “There’s nothing wrong with that, except accurate descriptions of the history would say otherwise.”

“Kaneki, my guy, just let the kids believe,” Hide quipped. “If they found out that exposure to icy elements left burns and scarring, they’d be traumatised. Think of Elsa’s ice palace! Imagine telling them it would be inhospitable! Imagine telling them that going into a blizzard without a cloak would _actually_ kill you!”

“Not to mention the fact that snowmen are not sentient.”

“ _No,”_ Hide said seriously, staring at Kaneki very seriously. “That’s too far.”

Kaneki gave him a single, quizzical raise of his eyebrows. “What about the fact that Elsa would never be allowed to be queen without a king?”

“Right, it’s time for food.” Hide stood sharply, playfully crossing his arms and pulling a sour face. “Because, as a mature adult, I will not accept this injustice.”

Kaneki stared up at him with those great, wide eyes of him for a second, registering that Hide was being sarcastic. Hide didn’t even mind, because it meant he got the full movement of Kaneki’s face into a smile.

Into a toothy grin.

“But, Hide, the world of an adult is full of unfairness,” Kaneki said, mimicking a wizened lecturer. “You must learn to see the . . . what was it? The lotus in the weed? How does that saying go?”

“I swear, that saying does _not_ exist,” Hide laughed, heading to the kitchen and squatting down to dig through the minibar he and Nishio shared as a fridge. It was mostly filled with energy drinks and snacks, with the occasional doggy bag from going out the previous night. Hide looked around at the stuff he’d stocked up on. “What do you feel like, Kaneki?” he asked. He already knew the answer.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” The words were fluid and natural, Hide noted, despite the fact Hide knew he was lying. He could all but hear his stomach growling.

“Nope,” Hide said, moving on and looking through the pantry. “I can’t have a guest going without food. What would my country heritage do? I should have prepared, like, ten courses to give you when you arrived.” He pulled out a bag of chips and some crackers. Dry, crunchy, simple-to-eat foods that even Kaneki wouldn’t refuse, regardless of whatever ailment stopped him. Hide was confident.

After looking for a bowl, he decided that there were no clean ones and instead decided to use just the bag. God, what a terrible host he was. Oh, well. He dropped back down onto the couch beside Kaneki and placed the bags on the table. “Help yourself,” Hide said, “but bear in mind that if you don’t eat something I may just have to order proper take-away so that I know you’re eating right.”

Kaneki was silent beside him, and Hide found himself hoping that he’d struck the right chord to let Kaneki know that he _knew._

“So, up next we have a fine selection of rom-coms. That, or like, just romance. Straight romance. And by straight, I mean like, just complete romance but they _are_ also all heterosexual, thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” Kaneki said absently. Hide watched him reach forward and take a single cracker, before placing it in his mouth and chewing. Hide, watching as subtly as he could, couldn’t help but see the discomfort in his face. Smoothed out expertly, tamed and trained, but still there. Kaneki swallowed and turned his attention to the television, thinking.

“The choice is yours,” he said. “Educate me.”

“When in doubt, put some cheesy American romance on,” Hide shrugged. “Let’s watch _The Notebook.”_

“I’ve heard of that one,” Kaneki said. “A lot of raining and making out, I hear.”

“Basically.” Hide hit play and let himself slump back against the couch. “See, now _this_ is a movie marathon. Pyjamas, trashy movies, and snacks.”

They lapsed into silence, watching the film. It had the peculiar hypnotic quality that extinguished a conversation, until it got to one of those scenes where Hide just couldn’t contain himself, like the ferris wheel scene.

“If we lived in 40s America, I would so have asked you out like that,” Hide said. “Definitely.”

“I’m sure you would have,” Kaneki smirked. “And interrupted my prior date, of course.”

“Naturally.”

They fell into silence as the movie progressed, and it became increasingly awkward when Hide remembered the amount of sex in the film. Oh boy, what a choice. Great work, Hide. Great work.

“ _I waited for you,”_ Hide sung along the lines in falsetto. “ _Seven years.”_

Kaneki snickered beside him.

Hide ended up eating the majority of the snacks. To his relief, Kaneki did seem to eat a few, but the way he fell silent whenever he ate, even if in mid-conversation, was enough to ring a few alarm bells. Later, Hide told himself. _Later._

It was fitting that Hide began to drift off to sleep. Trust his brain that no matter who the date was, no matter what the movie was, no matter what he was doing to stay awake, it hit the switch for bedtime. _Useless._

He was drifting off when he jolted away, realising he’d fallen sideways onto the arm of the couch. God, that was embarrassing. He should—

A weight rested on the top of his head, and Hide realised that the surface he was leaning on was moving and breathing. Holy shit, he’d fallen onto Kaneki.

Except now Kaneki had full on put their heads together and _shit_ he couldn’t move now what did he do? Play it off? Try and act smooth? He’d just started to fall asleep, _fuck._

“Smooth,” Kaneki muttered, still watching the movie. “I completely believe you when you say that was intentional.”

“It definitely was,” Hide said. “Can’t you tell these smooth moves are intrinsic?”

Kaneki hummed in response, ever so softly. Hide thought his voice would be lost in the volume of the movie, which had just started to end with the female lead running from the car with suitcases.

“What a happy ending,” Hide murmured. “That’s nice.”

“Are you a philosophical drunk?” Kaneki asked, and Hide could _hear_ the smirk in his tone. “You sure seem like one.”

“Just a stupid drunk, sorry,” Hide sat up, stretching. “I once tried to climb over a fence, forgetting that it was too high and the drop was onto a hill. That was a story.”

The incredulous look on Kaneki’s face was priceless. “Don’t get drunk again.”

“T’was but a scratch,” Hide smirked, suddenly feeling bold. “Besides, I’m sure I would have got it kissed better if I had a boyfriend at the time.”

Kaneki’s ears turned pink. “If you say so.”

Hide grinned. “Speaking of kisses, do I get a thank you kiss yet?” he leaned on his hand. Personally, he didn’t see any problem with what he was saying. Kaneki’s ears grew redder, and the blush extended to his cheeks.

“I guess . . .” Kaneki stared at Hide’s arm. Ah, shit, maybe that was too far. Hide stood, trying to command his legs to walk to the computer to change the movie.

“Well, there’s no rush. And now, because I am so tired, let’s do some scary shit.”

“How scary?”

“ _The Shining.”_

There was another moment of silence as Hide changed the film before he heard Kaneki giggle quietly into his hand. “You’re hopeless.”

Hide flashed him a grin over his shoulder. “I try.”

He stood, shaking his legs to try and get the feeling back into them. His joints felt stiff and disused from the sudden change from training to lazing about. Well, if he counted running around at the office as lazy.

“Man,” Hide said, “I’m gonna regret this.”

“Yeah,” Kaneki agreed. “I’ve never seen it, but the book was scary enough.”

“Believe in me, Kaneki,” Hide exclaimed with pride as he fumbled across the dark ground, trying not to stumble on something he couldn’t see. “Believe in the me that believes in you.”

In true Nagachika Hideyoshi fashion, he stubbed his toe on the foot of the table and stumbled. What a great impression to make.

He was caught in an instant, receiving a face of cotton and chest. He froze, his hands finding a set of arms to cling to as he looked up, seeing Kaneki’s face above him. “Are you—are you okay?” Kaneki stammered, face bright red. “You could have fallen, so . . .”

Hide’s chest felt painfully tight. They were close; they were _so_ close, and all he could take in was the familiar face and the familiar lips and the memories of kissing him. Was now an okay time? He’d felt awkward that entire movie from before and tried to ignore it, but _fuck,_ he wanted to kiss Kaneki Ken.

Hide smiled, ignoring his worries. He gave Kaneki’s lips a peck. “That’s _my_ thank you kiss,” he grinned, wriggling his eyebrows. “Feel free to learn from the master.”

Kaneki’s face went even redder, glowing. To Hide’s surprise, he didn’t let go of him.

“Do that again,” he whispered.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Hide straightened up, hands gripping at Kaneki’s arms probably too tightly. “Could you repeat it?”

“No.” For a blissful second, Hide knew it was coming. That strange, poetic, horribly fantastical sense that _now_ was the right time to lean down and kiss him that honestly had no place in real life. He knew it didn’t.

But they did.

It was like letting out a pent-up breath before diving into a pool. He sighed against Kaneki’s mouth, feeling the familiar lips against his, the comfortable swell of Kaneki’s arms in his palms. The moment was sweet, until Hide realised how deep he was and suddenly he was _hungry._ He _wanted._

Kaneki balled fists of Hide’s shirt, tugging him down against him insistently. Hide let himself be pulled forward, until the both of them trip and fall back against the couch. For whatever reason, that didn’t seem to stop them, and somehow Hide ended up on top of him on the couch, hands gripping at Kaneki’s hips and sucking at the skin of his throat.

He heard Kaneki let out a faint hiss as Hide’s mouth filled with the sour taste of makeup. The white-haired youth wriggled beneath him, and suddenly his hands were out of Hide’s hair and instead trailing down his back so agonisingly slow Hide shivered, feeling the press of Kaneki’s fingers into each vertebrae until they settled at the hem of his t-shirt, brushing at the bare skin. It felt as if a burning heat started from his lower back and engulfed him. His face burned like he was in a sauna.

“What’s wrong?” Kaneki’s voice, faint and breathless, jolted him from his stupor. He’d stilled against Kaneki, his cheek pressing against the rippling skin of his neck as he spoke. “Are you okay? Should we stop? Do you want to stop?”

Hide wanted to see it. He wanted to see Kaneki’s priceless face. He looked up, meeting eyes with Kaneki, whose had grown dark. “No,” Hide said, grinning despite himself.

Supporting himself on one arm, he reached down and tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up as far as he could before his arm couldn’t bend anymore. He glanced down, trying to figure out a way to pull it off, when two pale hands gripped the loose fabric and pulled it over his head, hastily freeing it off his supporting arm.

It was a great idea.

Hide revelled in the priceless look of shock and _that something else_ on Kaneki’s face, eyes wide and dark as he couldn’t help but stare, his pink face turning completely red. He jumped, realising what he’d been doing and looking back to Hide’s face. By now, Hide was grinning so wide it hurt, trying not to laugh. God, why was everything so funny?

“Not as buff as you implied,” Kaneki said, giving the slightest of smirks. It was the same smirk he had given Kaneki at the party when they had first met, his lashes glowing with neon light. Now they glowed with the blue illumination of the movie they’d neglected. He looked just as ghostly now as he had before, except now, those eyes were only looking at Hide.

God, he loved Kaneki Ken.

He dropped his head low enough so that his breath ghosted Kaneki’s face. “Can you show me what buff means, then?”

“In your dreams.” Kaneki captured his lips in another kiss, so fervent it stole Hide’s breath. His arms trembled from holding him above Kaneki, and he felt the burning sensation of Kaneki’s fingers finding every muscle fibre in his back and pressing it down through his skin, leaving goose-bumps as they moved.

“Your arms are shaking,” Kaneki said as Hide pulled away to try and breathe. It was the best kind of breathless.

“It’s the buffness,” Hide said, leaning back down. “Is it bad? I can move—”

Kaneki hooked his fingers through Hide’s belt loops and pulled his hips down against his. Hide yelped from the weird explosion of pain and pleasure that came from two hips locking. Kaneki gave him a quizzical look, teeth bared ever so slightly from the same sensation, gauging if it was okay.

Hide, for the thousandth time, grinned. “Playing dirty, I see.” To emphasise this, he rolled his hips against Kaneki’s, and even through layers of clothes it made both of their breathing hitch, stopping him from making the great punch line of ‘I can too’. Real sexy, Hide, he chided himself. Real sexy.

Kaneki had tipped his head back, exposing the pale expanse of his throat, complete with the faint red hickey Hide had already given him. With every breath, his Adam’s apple bobbed. Hide’s stomach dropped. Kaneki was so, so . . . so _something,_ and he had no idea what. It was probably that thought that made him decide to kiss him again.

Kaneki rolled their hips again and Hide had no control over the moan he let out into Kaneki’s mouth. As if in protest, Hide leaned back, dragging his pelvis down, their hip bones all but grating together. This time, it was Kaneki that let out the small mewl. Back and forth, they went like this, until somehow Hide’s hands were tugging at the waistband of Kaneki’s pants, and he had no idea what he was doing at all, but they were coming off and he couldn’t think straight about it, when Kaneki shoved him off roughly onto the ground.

The door opened with a click and Hide heard Nishio’s voice coming from it. Kaneki reached over the arm of the couch and grabbed Hide’s top, long since discarded. He threw it at Hide, sitting up. “Put this on. Act natural!” Kaneki whispered, his face now pale. Hide got the message. Despite what he may have thought, Kaneki’s urgency made _him_ urgent, and by this stage he still had no idea what was going on properly other than _Nishio was back and he could have seen them on the couch holy shit—_

“Trashika? Oi, what are you . . . ?” his eyes fell on the two of them, how sitting cross-legged next to each other on the couch. Kaneki’s face was bone pale, and Hide’s was bright red. On the screen, the main character was busy killing people but Hide had never been less scared of a horror film in his life he felt so embarrassed.

Nishio shrugged. “Well, I only came to get my computer. Hope I didn’t intrude.”

* * *

 

“That was fun,” Hide said numbly as Nishio closed the door behind him. Kaneki nodded, mute. If Nishio had _seen,_ if Nishio _knew,_ then Kaneki would _never_ hear the end of this, and his entire _being_ would be ruined and holy shit he was definitely going to let Hide take his pants off back there. Jesus, what had he been doing? If Nishio had walked in on that . . . Kaneki didn’t want to think about it.

“Trust Nishio to show up,” Hide laughed. Kaneki could only stare at him in awe. How was he so happy? How was he _always_ so happy? Did that smile ever fail him? Despite himself, Kaneki fell into Hide’s smiling rhythm and grinned back. It was so easy. It was so comfortable.

It was intoxicating.

They finished the film, but by the end of _The Shining,_ they were falling asleep on each other and no one bothered to turn anything off, which completely ruined their plans to watch the next two movies. Kaneki didn’t care. He was so tired, and falling asleep on Hide’s shoulder gave him so much respite.

* * *

 

Nishio yawned, stretching in front of the door. When he’d explained to Kimi the awkwardness that he’d seen Kaneki and Hide sitting in when he walked in, she had a short spell of laughter before she scolded him for being so rude. Nishio knew well enough that they had been _very_ busy before that door opened.

Kaneki Ken, mass murderer, gang member, hit man, drug dealer, body guard, and all kinds of other evil, evil professions, looked like an innocent child that had been caught in the act as he sat on that couch. With his white hair and the paleness he’d shocked himself to, he looked pretty dead.

Nishio swallowed down the taste of morning breath and pushed the door open. Inside, the dorm was completely quiet. Maybe Kaneki went back. Maybe they got right back to it in Hide’s room like _normal_ people after he left. Oh, who cared? His shitty roommate had a shitty boyfriend who Nishio kind of hated but kind of had a history with that he had to respect. Goddammit.

“Trashika? You here?” Receiving no response, Nishio took it as a sign that he could safely go into the room and maintain his eyesight. Jesus, didn’t everyone have classes today? What were they even thinking? Maybe Kaneki would be fine because no one had seen him sleep a night in their life, but Hide would have a very fun time. Very fun.

“I swear to God, if you guys are busy on the couch again, I will kick you into next week.” Nishio peeked around, and instead was given the sight of two grown-ass men sleeping on top of each other on the couch, where the television had been left on with no signal after the computer it was connected to had turned off from neglect.

Typical. Fucking typical.

Nishio observed them again, realising that Kaneki was fully and properly asleep on Hide’s chest. Jesus. Muttering to himself, he pulled out his phone and snapped around thirty pictures of them so that he’d never not enjoy the look on Kaneki’s face whenever the guy tried to threaten him again. That, and Touka had hassled him all fucking night to find out how things were. Jesus, Touka needed something better to do with her time.

Nishio packed up his books and notes in his room, manoeuvring around the laundry hampers Hide had dumped there. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, made sure he was clean and fresh, even made himself a coffee, and neither of them so much as stirred. They were fully clothed, thank God, but still. Wasn’t Kaneki a freakishly light sleeper? Had he ever slept more than one hour a week in the three years Nishio had known him?

Fuck it. He didn’t care.

“Have fun in class, losers,” he called as he exited.

He sent Touka one of the snaps right away, of course, saying _‘teach ur roommate the importance of bedrooms.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaha i hope that was okay
> 
> i literally have no idea how to write this shit im just copying the rest of the steamy material i see around  
> im so sorry if it was bad
> 
> but, ah, i hope you liked it? Sorry i didnt include everyone's films, and I guess even when i did they were kind of brief ... but yeah  
> also i know i said 'tonight' on tumblr but some shit happened and it got delayed im rly sorry  
> anyways with hope we'll be back to normal updates and more cute shit can happen and then a lot of plot shit and well
> 
> yea
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading this and putting up with the lateness! I really hope you enjoyed it, and overall just thank you very much for taking the time out of your day to be involved with this story in any way. I really appreciate it! You guys are the best!


	35. New Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from fluff to angst and everything violent in between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie i binge wrote this  
> kind of happy with how it turned out tho so please enjoy!  
>  ~~im so sorry im late again im trying i swear~~

_In the darkness, his eyes began to form shapes. Light blocks, dark blocks, the texture of tiny threads knitting together the cheap cloak-like attire they were dressed in. Stained after a week without washing. Baths were on Fridays. Until then, they made do._

_Now they reeked of sweat and blood and desperation and_ death.

_That was what it was: death. It pressed down on his back, pressed up against his face, crushed his chest in its icy claws and squeezed that shitty heart of his until it felt like it would shatter at_ any second.

_But it didn’t._

_He tried to tug his hand free, the initial numbing shock wearing away and being replced by horror. Horror and_ disgust. _He was in a mound, he realised. A mound of dead bodies ready to be turned to ash._

_He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live._

_How so young he had been. So very young._

_He tore himself free, causing a commotion amongst the bodies. They rolled over him in a wave, slamming him down against the dead chest of the body below. Oh, God, there were so many. He was surrouned by_ corpses _holy shit what did—how did—he wanted out. He wanted out, out, out, and he wanted to turn away and Jesus_ Christ _did he want to_ forget.

_Sante._

_His dark hair was unkempt. His face, once full, had grown sharp and pale. Even in death, the dark stains around his eyes had sunk into the bone, into the fabric of his genetics and remained there. He died alone and in horror, Kaneki realised. Everyone here had died alone and forgotten._

_He would die the same way._

* * *

 

Kaneki’s hands gripped at the fabric of the shirt in front of him. This was another body. What did he do? How did he get out? He’d get out and Kanou would take him back and strap him to another chair or table and pump his bloodstream full of _shit_ but he had to—

“Kaneki?”

Did he know that voice? He knew it, he knew it, but everything was dark and dead. Just like he should be. He couldm’t even think straight. People around him had been dying and he’d never even taken the time to get to know them. He’d let them die. Oh, God, it was his fault. If he had known them, if he had spoken to them, if he had done _something,_ then surely something else would have happened. God, why was he even alive? Could his very existence be the catalyst for despair?

No, he told himself. No, just . . . why the fuck did he have to be the one alive with nothing rather than those who had everything but were dead?

Why was the world so fucking _unfair?_

“Kaneki, are you okay?”

_Hide._

Suddenly he became aware that there was no darkness. He was gripping like a madman to Hide’s t-shirt so hard and for so long his hands were numb. Sun. The room was bathed in a yellow, morning glow and he was lying on Hide’s chest, warm and strong and so fucking, beautifully and perfectly _alive._

He’d been about to have an episode in Hide’s company.

His stomach sunk. The room felt too small. Everything was so small, and there were monitors hooked up to every _inch_ of his body _waiting_ for him to do something so they could see it and process it and use it _against him—_

“It’s okay,” Hide said gently, warm hands brushing the hair off Kaneki’s damp forehead. Kaneki blinked, desperately trying to focus on Hide’s face. He could see the sunny outline of his smile, the crinkling of his eyes. “You’re okay now. Just breathe.”

Kaneki breathed.

* * *

 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Suzuya was munching happily on the chocolate bar Hide had brought him, and now Hide was lost in thought once again. This morning. _This morning._

Was Kaneki okay? Should Hide have even let him leave? Should he have tried harder to accompany the obviously-shaken boy back to his home? He should have. Shit, he should have. But he hadn’t.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

His pen hit the plastic surface of his desk rhythmically. Since he wasn’t allowed to wear his headphones at work and zone out to music, it provided a kinetic distraction to try and keep his thoughts in order. Hide was _so_ typical, and he hated that about himself. Already he was looking for the cause of Kaneki’s issue _rather_ than a cure. Why? He had no idea. He was wired in that way and because of that, he could see no solution if he didn’t know the facts.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He was so insensitive, wasn’t he?

Whenever he thought of this morning, he thought of the unbridled terror in Kaneki’s eyes and his heart sank. Kaneki, his gorgeous, cute, smooth-as-fuck, beautiful Kaneki, was so haunted by this that he awoke and all but turned to stone on Hide’s chest. Hide could still feel the fabric of his shirt pulled tightly against him, almost tearing in Kaneki’s bony fists.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Ghosts were not just a conversation starter to Kaneki. Hide realised this now, with its full intensity: Kaneki was haunted. The boy probably haunted himself. He probably caused himself all this pain because somewhere he was still _there._ A place Hide would never reach.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

“You’re worried,” Suzuya noted through a mouthful of chocolate. “Why?”

Hide stopped tapping his pen, turning to the smaller and smiling like usual. “It’s just about a friend.”

Suzuya’s large, red eyes stared back at him. Hide was always torn between whether Suzuya didn’t understand or didn’t care, or something else Hide didn’t know him well enough to pinpoint. He wanted to know Suzuya better, but boy, he was hard to approach.

“Why would you worry about a friend?” Suzuya’s expression was blank. “I wouldn’t.”

“Aw, but Suzuya,” Hide drawled, leaning onto his desk. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Suzuya had already lost interest, turning his attention back to his chocolate bar and kicking his small feet onto the desk. “It’s not like their problems affect me.”

“What if they were serious problems?” Hide continued, despite Suzuya’s disinterest. He was really replying on his ability to bug people, wasn’t he? Oh well. Suzuya didn’t seem to mind him, so Hide hoped it would be fine. “Like, they really have bad problems.”

Suzuya’s stare was deadly empty. “They’d just die, wouldn’t they?”

Red eyes. Grey eyes. Empty. Empty. _Empty._

Those eyes were the exact same as Kaneki’s. They didn’t see Hide. They didn’t see anything. They didn’t see themselves. There was nothing in them but an aching, raw chasm that no one could see the bottom of. They had the same tired lines around the eyes. They had the same stare. They had the same pale eyelashes.

Hide started tapping his pen again.

“So mean, Suzuya,” Hide pouted. “I guess we can’t agree. No matter!”

Suzuya grinned at him. “Tiger!”

Hide _dropped his fucking pen._

“What?”

“You look like a tiger,” Suzuya repeated, picking up an animal picture book he had on the ground and flicking through the pages until he found an image of a snarling, orange-red tiger. Suzuya jabbed at the black stripes of its coat excitedly. “It’s like your hair!”

Hide’s hair? Oh. _Oh._

His _hair._

That one strip of hair the hospital had shaved off that had was growing out dark like a sore thumb amidst his dyed mess. The one stripe that Suzuya had decided to nickname him after.

“You’re going to nickname me like this after my _hair_?” Hide squinted at him. “I’m so hurt, Suzuya, ah!”

Suzuya gave his peculiar girlish giggle. “You’re Tiger now.”

Hide hated how well the nickname stuck. By the time the others were back, Akira had joined the bandwagon and was already using it against him. Seidou snickered it from behind his hand. Amon eventually conceded defeat and Shinohara watched the entire progression like a wincing parent.

Then the call came:

Kaneki Ken was caught.

* * *

 

Hide ran far too fast to be in character. As a member of the CCG, he shouldn’t be this invested. He shouldn’t be _showing_ people how much he cared about Kaneki, right? He was just meant to be a criminal Hide had heard of. That was it. If the Washuu saw him like this, they’d pinpoint his weakness straight away.

Hide didn’t care.

He jogged around to the police-blocked area, stomach sinking. The men guarding the street corner looked pale and depressed. “CCG!” Hide said quickly, reaching for his badge. Suzuya was beside him in an instant, glaring down the taller men. “We received the call.”

“Good.” The man facing Hide responded. He was a solid head taller than Hide, with greying hair tucked under a police cap and wrinkles around the corner of his mouth. Even from here, Hide could smell cigarettes. “You got our call about this Kaneki fellow, yeah?”

_Just tell me where he is!_

“Yes,” Hide replied, struggling to keep his voice calm. He’d figure out a way. He would. God, he should have _walked Kaneki home._ Shit, shit shit—why was the policeman stalling? Hide had _business!_ “We came immediately.”

“I’m afraid he left before we got here.” The seargant, Hide realised, looked grim. “We had him on tape. He broke into this store and killed the two men in it. He was shot in the process. We initially thought it was a headshot, but it appears to have been a shoulder injury or something, because in the footage he walks out.”

_Shot. Shot. Shot. Kaneki had been_ shot.

“Special Class Shinohara.” The taller man appeared behind them, at last catching up with them. He put a commanding hand on Hide’s shoulder, halting him. “I apologise for the new recruits energetic appearance.”

“It’s nothing,” the older man waved it off. “I just explained it to them: he’s already gone. We have actual footage of him this time, which is a progression. Please, come this way.”

“Why would it have to be a shoulder-shot if he walked away?” Suzuya’s voice, usually softly feminine, was piercingly sharp in the mass of muttering people, rustling plastic body bags, and the breathing of so many pairs of lungs. “Why couldn’t he have been shot through the head?”

“People die when they are shot through the head, Suzuya,” Shionhara said patiently. “Therefore he must have been a near-miss. I assume there is blood, right?” he addressed the police officer.

To this, the man nodded. He seemed terribly small compared to Shinohara’s hulking form. “We’ve had a team analyse it and collect samples. He’ll be in the database now.”

Kaneki had been shot. He had escaped.

He had to call Kaneki.

“That’s a good start. The rest of the 20th ward team will be coming in a moment, I left to chase after these two—”

“Why would he have died when he was shot in the head?” Suzuya betrayed nothing in his voice. It had the same sing-song lilt, but now it parted the sound like a blade.

_Why would he have died when he was shot through the head?_

“That’s the way things work, Juuzou.” Shinohara had the patience of a fucking saint. Hide’s hands were shaking, itching to contact Kaneki. God, he was so terrible. Kaneki was the sole reason two men were dead, and he was trying to find out if he was okay. That was so, so morally wrong, right?

“Who are the victims?” Shinohara asked, releasing Hide’s shoulder. “Have their profiles been run yet?”

“They have.” The sergeant headed over to the van, where he retrieved a clipboard, handing it to Shinohara. “They’re two good-for-nothings. Some more gang drama, I’m guessing. Drug-dealers, gang members, one of them was a registered sex offender, the other is a violent lout.”

Hide hated himself for trying to use that to justify Kaneki’s actions.

Three sets of footsteps followed them: Akira, Amon and Seidou. Wordlessly, Shinohara passed Akira the clipboard to analyse. “Sir, if we could view the footage, that would be great.”

“Of course,” said the officer. “But there isn’t enough room for all of you in the van right now. I could give you the file for later analysis, or—”

“Akira and Hide can go in.” Amon spoke up suddenly. “Is two enough?”

That was how Hide ended up watching Kaneki get shot through the head, clearly and _obviously,_ and walk it off.

The quality of the footage was grainy. It was a street-corner, after dark, in a neglected neighbourhood in the 20th ward. Kaneki was dressed in his all-black attire, a scarf over his mouth while he spoke with two men, a knife in both hands. There was no audio, but judging by the sudden angry reactions of the two men he killed, he probably said something bad.

Until then, Hide had never seen Kaneki fight. Beside him, Akira was taking intense notes, but he didn’t have the nerve. He studied every grainy pixel on the screen, seeing the way Kaneki expertly dodge every swipe and in one clean movement slit the first man’s throat, before he was backed against the wall and the other man held out a gun.

There was no hesitation. Kaneki’s pose didn’t even change. He just took the hit.

The other man swayed and stepped back, out of the camera’s field of vision while Hide watched Kaneki slump. It was a head-shot, all right. That exact whiplash of the head, the way the blood sprayed in a perfect halo behind him, the redness coating his white hair. There was no way it _couldn’t_ be a headshot.

On the ground, Kaneki pulled out a gun and shot the other man.

For a few frames, Kaneki remained there, breathing heavily. Even in the poor quality, Hide recognised the shaking of his shoulders and the bobbing of his head as the boy’s heart raced.

Then, he stood. He gripped at his unarmed shoulder and dragged himself away. He’d killed two men and been shot through the head. He’d walked off. It was impossible.

_It was impossible._

“I can’t see how he wasn’t shot through the head,” Akira said, voice smooth and analytical, like she was crunching numbers instead of the deaths of two men. “Sure, he was holding his shoulder at the end, but I honestly thought he was dead.”

“He should be,” Hide said. His voice sounded confident despite how distant it felt. “That was definitely a fatal shot.”

“But it can’t be,” Akira shook her head, dismayed by the findings. “He walked off. Maybe he played it. There’s no way to be shot through the head and live to tell the tale.”

Hide could only agree, despite what he’d seen.

_Don’t talk yourself out of your initial suspicions._

Hide didn’t _think_ Kaneki had been shot through the head, he _knew_ Kaneki had been shot through the head. Yet somehow, he was fine. He’d walked it off.

The feeling came at once: the air sucked out of his lungs, dread clawing at his stomach and dragging it onto the paved surface of the road. It was connected. Everything he knew about Kaneki was connected. This event was connected to his episode this morning. His episode this morning was connected to the past. His white hair. His black hair. His change. _Him._

“It’ll be hard to miss someone who’s been shot through the shoulder.” His voice was so fucking calm. How? How was that possible when he felt like _death_? “Assuming he’s trying to act civilian.”

Akira hummed, pressing the butt of her pen into her cheek in thought. “He sure walked it off easily, didn’t he? Anyway, we’ll run his blood through the system and see if he picks up with any registered citizens. That’ll help. Even if he did kill two low-lives that should have been in jail, he’ll just kill more innocents if we let him go.”

Kaneki killing innocents.

Kaneki killing.

Kaneki _being killed._

When had Hide become so messed up?

“You okay? Do you need a break?” Akira gave him a scan, eyeing him up and down. Hide waved her off quickly, giving her his flashy smile.

“I’m fine. I’m just stumped.”

_One man. Two dead._

He thought of that single drop of blood on Satsuki’s lashes.

He thought of a drop of blood on Kaneki’s white lashes.

He felt sick.

“It’s confusing,” Akira agreed. “There’s not a lot we can do other than try and fix the quality. Still, it gave us an insight to his fighting style, didn’t it? Now we have something better to go off than Amon’s trashy account.”

Hide didn’t think it gave away anything remotely substantial about Kaneki’s style of fighting. There were too many variables. Kaneki was quick. Kaneki used knives. Kaneki had a gun.

He knew all this already.

But why was Kaneki fine after being _shot through the head?_

_“It’s a treatment designed for serious wounds.”_

Hide swallowed hard. That was a connection he did _not_ want to make. Not now. Not ever. The implications of something like that were terrifying.

“Why would Kaneki be targeting them, though?” Hide ran a hand through his hair, praying that it looked more composed than he felt. “Orders? From who?”

“They’re in the middle of a war. Maybe they were just collateral damage.”

“Yeah, but they weren’t connected to any gang explicitly. They were just criminals. So why target them?”

“What are you implying, Hide?”

The answers were suddenly all over the screen. “Maybe they knew something they shouldn’t.”

* * *

 

_“Such a monster. You make me proud.”_

Rize was watching him from behind. He saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, streaks stuck to her face with the blood that came from her torn scalp. Her lashes had clumped together. When she blinked, drops of blood transferred to her cheeks like tears. He remembered her looking like that.

He’d done it to her.

Kaneki was a monster.

He continued scrubbing his hands. The polish Touka had gently painted on the day before had been scraped off with the rest of his cuticles. His knuckles were bleeding into the rapidly-filling sink. He had to wash them clean. He had to wash them clean. He had to be _clean._

Everything stank of blood.

Hide had touched these hands. These hands so covered in blood. If he ever selfishly, so, so selfishly, wanted Hide to touch them again then they had to be _clean._ Why weren’t they _clean_?

_“We don’t know anything! The fuck you want?”_

_“Eto says you read a book you shouldn’t. The price is steep.”_

He had said those words. When had they stopped tasting sour? When had everything tasted the same?

When had he forgotten what everything tasted like?

_“Careful, Kaneki. You’ll make a mess.”_ Rize laughed behind him, icy hands pressing into his bare shoulders. _“Don’t want to make a scene, right? Jason’ll get you again.”_

He glanced down at his hands. Streaks of skin had been scraped away. His own blood.

That was fine.

He shut off the taps, gripping at the sink. Two more. He’d add two more. Their faces were etched into his memory: young, angry and violent. And _dead._

_“That habit is so counter-productive. All things die,”_ she leered, leaning down to whisper against his hair. The skin of her cheek was wet and cold with dried blood. _“Except you.”_

He looked up in the mirror again, and she was gone. She was gone, he reminded himself. Rize was gone. She was gone. She’d been captured by god-knows-who and Kaneki didn’t _care._ They’d broken each other to pieces, so why was he so _haunted?_

He remembered Hide’s warm hands. He remembered the warm, gentle touch of Hide’s mouth on his. He remembered the feeling. For that brief moment, he’d forgotten that _he_ was the monster in the stories parents told their children to keep safe. He’d forgotten that the dangers in this city were _him._ He’d forgotten his one-way trip to Hell. He’d forgotten all of it.

Until now.

Hide couldn’t love him. Kaneki shouldn’t be capable of _feeling._ He didn’t deserve happiness. He deserved all the injustices of the world, because shit, all of them were his fault. How many innocents had died because of him? How many lives had he ruined? How many families had he ripped apart?

Kaneki shouldn’t be so fucking in love with Nagachika Hideyoshi.

He stepped towards the shower, turning only the hot water. He wanted to boil. He wanted to be destroyed because _was that so fucking much to ask?_ He just wanted to _stop._ Human lives were so delicate yet he continued on like a disease. A plague. An epidemic to humanity in all its forms, and no one saw him coming until he was cutting open a second smile.

The water burned.

It didn’t hurt.

He pressed his head against the tiles, water scalding his back. He couldn’t be loved. He didn’t deserve love. He couldn’t be loved. He didn’t deserve love.

He wanted nothing more than to slam his head through the wall. But he didn’t.

Because he wouldn’t die.

_One may take the man from Hell, but one may never take Hell from the man._

Kaneki could have laughed.

He _was_ Hell.

He scrubbed away everything that reminded him of himself. Of the day. Of the day before. Every shred of evidence that was his happiness was gone. Every shred of evidence that was his crimes of the day were gone. A reset. A restart.

For now.

Every movement was muscle memory. No glancing in the mirror. Towelling-off. The long-sleeved shirt. Pants. He bundled up his dirty clothes and carried them to the laundry, pointedly not looking at the clothes he had washed that afternoon, a world away happening to someone that could not be the Kaneki living this life. That Kaneki was weak and black-haired. Innocent. Happy. Deserving.

This Kaneki dumped blood-soaked clothes into a machine with two scoops of powder and hit a few buttons in the dark.

He could never face Hide again. Hide deserved everything that Kaneki could never, ever give.

Walking out the door, he lit a cigarette for the first time in a week and remembered what it felt like to deliberately try and destroy one’s lungs.

* * *

 

Hide closed his notebook with a thud. He turned down the music.

He’d had to write down his thoughts after the evening.

_Kaneki = unharmed after fatal shot = genetic therapy like CCG? = Suzuya knows him = try and contact people about him._

_Kaneki working for Aogiri? Why?_

_Kaneki Ken went missing at age sixteen._

_Kaneki Ken appeared on the radar again at eighteen._

Hide had decided that he wouldn’t tell Kaneki what he knew. If Kaneki knew that Hide knew, then he’d probably run. And if Hide was honest, he didn’t know what he’d do without his white-haired companion.

How could he tell him that he wanted to understand him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im always so scared of mis-writing suzuya's character pls i love him but sometimes i cant predict him argh  
> I think that was okay?? hopefully
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading again! I love all of you so much for putting up with me, and I can never thank you enough! This story is dedicated to the people who read it every chapter, even if I've never said that.
> 
> Thank you all again!


	36. Who Are You, Really?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i dont even know but???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god im not late thank god  
> very messy. wrote it in a hurry. hope you like it.  
> Thank you so much for the kind words for the last chapter!

“And then, like, I was reading this _textbook shit_ for homework, and they had this whole thing about the development of a guilty psyche and, just, _damn,_ Kaneki, that shit was _good.”_ Hide was loud and bright, even on a Friday morning. His presence was so large that Kaneki found he didn’t have time to hate on himself.

Hide didn’t know what went on inside his head. Hide didn’t know everything that was _wrong_ with him. It should stay that way.

“I’m sure it was a riveting read,” Kaneki muttered as he tried to listen to the lecturer. They were talking about subordinate clauses in relation to the effect of description. He wasn’t listening. He only heard Hide.

“It so was,” Hide agreed, thumping his textbook lovingly. “Good times, Dr Shiba. Good times.”

Kaneki studied the shape of Hide’s hand and fingers, careful not to glance at his own. He hadn’t hidden the blackened state of his nails. He hadn’t. He’d woken up in the morning and was too desperate for Hide’s company to stop himself like a _logical_ person. He was too weak. He was too _weak._

Hide’s hand grabbing his own blew away his thoughts. He knew no one would see them, but it didn’t feel any less _dangerous._ Being shown affection felt so dangerous, like if he flaunted it, someone would steal it away. Steal Hide away.

Please, God, no.

“You’re so broody,” Hide noted, giving him a lazy smile. “Lighten up a little.”

Oh, if only Hide knew. If Hide _knew—_

“I’m not broody.”

“You _so_ are. Careful, man, you’ll go prematurely grey.” Hide winked at him, apparently oblivious to the fact that Kaneki’s hair was _white._

Kaneki glared at him dully, pretending to be annoyed. Hide squeezed his hand before letting it go, and suddenly his hand was ugly again. It was cold again. Ignore it, he told himself. Ignore it. Ignore it. The state of his hand didn’t _matter,_ why was he so hung up on it?

“No, not the death glare!” Hide fanned at his chest, pressing himself into the desk. “I’m dying!”

The antics drew a smile out of Kaneki. It felt foreign on his face, but he couldn’t help it. Smiling. Laughing. It was good. Hide was good. Hide was _so good_ and god, it made Kaneki forget that he was _so bad._

“Shut up, you won’t die,” Kaneki muttered, pressing his hand against his cheek to try and stifle the smile that he couldn’t push away. Hide’s grin was toothy and _infectious._ His dark eyes glinted. His hair, in a neglected shape but still so perfectly Hide, took up every space in his head.

“I need to bleach my hair,” Hide muttered, pulling at the ends. “You know what my co-worker nicknamed me? Tiger. He named me after a _tiger,_ Kaneki! Like, yeah, it’s cool, but why were they looking at that _bad_ part of my hairstyle?”

“You never know, medical-grade side-shaves might come in fashion one day.”

“They _won’t,_ Kaneki, I’m telling you. Like, how old am I? Fifteen? Why is my hair _dark_ I don’t _understand—”_

“It’s a good nickname,” Kaneki mused. “Who gave it to you?”

“This guy named Suzuya,” Hide pouted, squinting at him. “Like, I get it, and he’s a cool guy, but argh, why was the name so catchy?”

_Suzuya._

Just a coincidence, he told himself. A coincidence. A _coincidence._

He could believe that.

“It’s accurate,” Kaneki said, definitely not secretly enjoying the stink-eye Hide gave him. “ _Tiger.”_

Hide groaned into his textbook pages, and Kaneki had to force down his laughter. It was something so simple, yet Hide cared so _much._

Kaneki wanted him to stay that way.

“I’m calling you that now,” Kaneki’s smile only grew. “Tiger.”

“Oh?” Hide sat up, squinting at him. “Then I’ll call you ‘Ken’.”

He blinked, still not understanding. It had been so long since anyone called him by his first name, he had forgotten it. His last memories were of his aunt calling him that before she grew to hate him, before he became a burden, before he—

_Ken._

His face was on fire and Hide was laughing. God, he was so embarrassed. Being called by his first name, being reminded that he had once been called _that,_ that once upon a time he had not been this _bad_ and that he’d had a mother who had bouts of affection, and now it was coming from Hide’s mouth and oh God, why couldn’t he bring himself to hate it?

Hide snickered, eyeing the lecturer to make sure they weren’t called out for being too loud. Oh, God. Kaneki’s face was so _hot_ he could see the redness of his cheeks at the edges of his vision. Jesus.

“You okay”—Kaneki braced for impact—“ _Ken_?”

May God fucking _strike him down._

He covered his face with his hands. He should be more. He was _Kaneki Ken,_ he was meant to be this edgy as fuck guy, he was meant to be more _serious_ than this but no, he was sitting in a lecture, not paying the slightest bit attention and letting himself be so embarrassed by Hide.

Hide’s laughter was muted behind his hand, but that didn’t make it any better. Kaneki hated the way he still liked hearing Hide’s laughter _despite_ being so embarrassed he could combust. Oh, God. He was so, so _weak_ for Hide.

“Nah, it’s not for everyday use,” Hide laughed it off, waving. Kaneki looked up from his hands as Hide tried to calm his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat. “I’ll remember that, though. I’m sure it’ll be really useful.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Would so.” Hide smiled evilly. “But seriously, ‘Kaneki’ is more you. Besides, I feel like it’s my job to remind you that your last name shouldn’t hurt you.”

The laughter stopped, and Kaneki stared at the taller in awe. His smile was honest and gentle. Kaneki was falling. Fuck that—he’d fallen. He’d fallen into the fucking _sun._

He did not deserve Hide.

* * *

 

“Hide, could you come over here for a second?” Hide glanced up, tearing himself away from his overly fond memories of mucking around in class with Kaneki. Amon was calling him over to his desk. God, what had he done wrong this time? Stolen someone’s coffee? Whoops.

Amon had a pile of papers to his right and two open folders in front of him: Yasuhisa Kurona and Yasuhisa Nashiro.

Oh, joy.

“I’m sorry,” Amon said, “but this girl here, Kurona, is definitely the one you met, right?”

There was no mistaking her face. Even if it had become sharper with age, even if her hairstyle had become more refined, sharper, and even if there was notihing weird about her eyes in this picture, it was her.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s her.”

Amon nodded, and Hide realised he was not breathing. He clapped the bulkier man on the back, and he jumped in surprise. Hide grinned. “Take a breather, Amon! You’re so pent up about this.”

“Easy for you to say, Hide.” Amon ran a hand through his hair. Hide noticed the stack of take-away coffee cups next to Amon’s computer. How long had this guy been awake, thinking about these two girls? “We have next to no leads on these two, yet from your account, they’re doing well. What happened? How did it happen? _Why_ did it happen?”

Hide shrugged. “Well, you’ve gotta find that out before you start getting so stressed, right? You make me feel old looking at you.”

Amon sighed, closing the folders. “Maybe we should go out and ask the restaurant you went to for ant CCTV footage. I can’t believe we haven’t done that yet.”

It was alarming, really, how good Hide had become at numbing himself to the whole ordeal. They weren’t talking about anything but Kurona. That was it. As long as he separated her from the rest of the events, he was fine. Everything was fine that way.

“They were shitting fancy,” Hide agreed, nodding sagely. “I’d be more concerned if they didn’t, honestly.”

Amon gave him an incredulous look. “That’s hardly professional.”

“The truth has many forms!” Hide announced, striking a pose. “Believe it!”

Amon gave him a long, blank look, before he sighed, shaking his head. He gave the slightest of smiles. “Okay, you win. Now go do . . . whatever you were doing. What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get Suzuya to play Snap with me.”

“ _What?”_

“Hide!” Akira broke their moment as she walked in, sharp heels tapping against the tiles. “You. I need your aid with this statement. We had Kaneki’s blood run through the system, and it confirmed a presence that had been neglected from the national database. After some digging, I found his original file. Take a look, would you?”

_Kaneki’s file._

How great did that sound, huh?

“Turns out he’s from a family of crime. I guess it breeds what it sells. He was removed when he was sixteen, but there’s no explanation why. I was thinking of contacting his aunt, who’s listed as his only living relative. Take a look and come with me.”

Was Hide even ready for this?

No time like the _fucking_ present, he guessed. He took the file wordlessly and sat back down at his desk, his chair squeaking. “Sounds like a fun ride,” he told Akira, but she wasn’t listening. Beside him, Suzuya looked up from his drawing pad, where he’d messily drawn an animal Hide was too scared of offending him to comment on.

“Kaneki’s file?” He looked intrigued. “What does it say?”

“No idea,” he admitted, opening the manilla folder.

He was given a blast of Student ID Kaneki Ken and shit, he wasn’t ready. He almost closed the book right there, but some morbid curiosity dragged him on. He had to know. He had a chance to know, and he _had_ to.

The day after he starts writing down what he knows, he’s given the answers.

It felt like he was cheating.

_Name: Kaneki Ken_

_Date of Birth: 20 December, 1993_

_Birthplace: Tokyo Central Hospital_

_Blood type: AB_

_Height: 169cm_

_Weight: 55kg_

_Guardian: Aunt. Parents deceased._

_Occupation: Student at 20 th ward High School_

_Previous Criminal History: None._

His contact page was sparse. Printed characters meant nothing. Akira was right: he had only an aunt living, but the details of her were brief. They included her address at the time and her ID number to find her information on the national database. Maybe they should go see her.

But did he really want to?

The report contained barely anything about Kaneki. It had his details they would have attained from school-issue medicals every year, but little else. His address, his school history, a few key documents his school reports kept (they were just entrance exam results and future occupation sheets that Hide had always flunked out of) and a basic report card: Average.

No outstanding bad behaviour. No amazing grades. No failing grades. Just average. On-par.

Maybe that’s why he had slipped away and no one noticed.

It contained more than enough about his family history, though. Hide felt more guilty as he progressed: his father died young. Unspecified causes. He was buried. His mother died when he was older from a ‘stress-induced heart attack’, so it said. After that, his aunt had taken custody of him.

His aunt, Ms Asaoka, had a son and a husband. Kaneki’s cousin was around his age but his file, which had also been collected, had some _very_ different results. His school life was sub-par at best, he was shorter, he had a bad reputation at school on the behaviour front, and he just looked _completely_ different. Yuichi was his name.

Hide didn’t know why, but he instinctively disliked him.

His aunt had the basic details, and he made note of her ID number. He’d already decided to go and see her with Akira. God, he was racking up so many secrets to keep from Kaneki. His uncle had a criminal history of petty theft and anger-related issues. He was a thug. The average thug.

Kaneki had lived with these people? Were they the reason he was like he was now?

No, Hide knew it. There was something far worse than the obviously toxic environment he would have lived in. Something no one else seemed to know. Kaneki’s results stopped at sixteen. Apparently, he’d transferred schools, according to his aunt’s report, however Hide would shit on the fact. His new school was never listed. All mandatory updates stopped. It was like he’d disappeared.

Like a ghost.

He was cheating, Hide decided. He was such a cheat. He would be going behind Kaneki’s back, seeing people Kaneki probably wanted to pretended didn’t exist, and never telling him about it.

Shit, did he feel guilty.

“Okay, Akira,” he said, his voice worryingly calm like always, “let’s go.”

He regretted that.

* * *

 

“You okay, Kaneki?” Uta rolled himself a cigarette. “You’re a little bit . . . off?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Kaneki was smoking again. He was in Uta’s office again, smoking, and preparing to do another night’s worth of ‘quality checking’, as Uta had called it after they’d been sent fatal batches three times, and he didn’t even worry about himself. “What makes you so unsure?”

“Well, for one thing, you don’t look like a ghost today.” Uta lit the cigarette, filling the room with the familiar smell of burning weed. “That’s always a signal.”

“Your eyes are bad.”

“My eyes were perfect. I wear sunglasses indoors.”

“I guess I haven’t mindlessly killed random people in over a week, and it’s making me less intimidating.” His throat was dry, but he didn't care. His entire life was spent doing a one-eighty between Hide’s company and the _Kanekiness_ he’d made for himself. It couldn’t go well. Something would break, and people would die again.

But sitting in that room, smoking like a complete idiot and probably already high, he didn’t even care.

God, Hide was so _good._ Hide was so _good_ so how did the world have room for someone like _him_? What kind of fucked-up logic was that? The world was so fucking wrong.

Fuck.

“Well, if that’s the problem, you’re in luck.” Uta bit the butt of his cigarette between his teeth and rifled through the scattered papers on his desk. “Aogiri wants to go all out, and we’re invited to the annual let’s-fuck-each-other-up again.”

“My favourite time of the year.”

“Warehouse again,” Uta said, scanning the crumpled paper. “Near the wharf. Nothing new there. As of yet, the CCG don’t know about it, but you know how they are.”

“Who are we working with this time?” Kaneki drew in another gulp of smoke. “Aogiri? V?”

“Aogiri, it seems. V hates all of us at the moment. Remember when they started copying Rize’s thing? What a time. They were baiting you, probably. Anyway, she’s probably dead, so we can forget about that.”

“Huh.” He wondered when he’d stopped caring.

Jesus, what were they even smoking? Kaneki had not been this high in a while, and that didn’t mean good things.

“Where’d you get this batch from?” he asked. “It’s pretty strong.”

“Eto gave it to me,” Uta adjusted his sunglasses. “She says thank you for killing those guys yesterday.”

“She would.” _What had Eto given them?_

Distantly, he wondered if it was a giant conspiracy against him to make him high and senseless and spill the terrible, gross secret that he had been _happy._

Disgusting.

“Also, I’ve heard that the CCG is onto your little ‘thing’,” Uta tossed aside the papers and reclined in his chair. “You should he more careful of the cameras. You don’t want them knowing that they can’t kill you, yeah?”

Kaneki grinned, despite himself.

“I welcome their hard work in trying.”

* * *

 

The woman who answered the door did not look the least bit like Kaneki.

Her hair was grey, pulled back. Her face was smoke-aged and wrinkled, harsh lines between her brows and around her mouth. She was old. She was so _old_ and yet so young.

The entire neighbourhood stank of violence and drugs. Hide struggled not to gag.

“Ms Asaoka?” Beside him, Akira was the image of composure. “My name is Akira Madou from the CCG. We’re investigating your nephew, Kaneki Ken.”

“Nice to meet you,” her voice was smooth and polite. It set Hide on edge. Something was _wrong_ here. “Unfortunately, I don’t know about him.”

“Anything is useful,” Akira said, nodding encouragingly. “If we could, it would be better to come in. Unless you’d rather keep it out here.”

“I have nothing to hide from the neighbours,” Asaoka said, smiling. Her voice was the same delicacy as treading on broken glass. “Please, continue.”

What’s she hiding?

“Well, what is Kaneki’s history? I’m sure you are well-aware of his current . . . profile,” Akira suggested. Her voice was kind and professional. Hide saw the way her hand twitched, turning on the recorder. Subtle.

“I’m afraid not, sorry,” Asaoka looked _genuinely_ apologetic, and that made Hide very worried. “I don’t watch the television much.”

There was something painfully dangerous about this woman. Something toxic and radioactive. If they stayed too long, they’d _die._ He was _sure._

Kaneki had _lived with her._

“Well, he’s a violnt gang member of GLG. I’m sure you know them. As members of the CCG, we’re trying to catch him. Anything that would indicate where he could be hiding would help.”

“He ran away when he was sixteen,” Asaoka told them. “I’m afraid I don’t know why or what happened after. Our family spent a long time looking and filed several missing person forms, however . . . it was like the state didn’t want to look for him.”

_Lies. She was lying, holy_ shit.

“That’s terrible,” Akira said, sympathy dripping off her voice. She didn’t believe the woman, either. “I’m so sorry it turned out this way. When we catch him, I’ll make sure you meet.”

The other woman smiled thinly. “Thank you, but . . . if he’s as violent as you say, I don’t think I could face him. I failed my sister, you see, raising him. He wasn’t that good a kid, but he . . . I should have raised him better.”

If it wasn’t for the sheen of utter disgust on her face as she said those words, Hide might have believed her. But he didn’t. Because she was _lying._

Hide knew that maybe she didn’t _hate_ Kaneki—actually, she probably did—but what she _really_ hated was the fact he was alive. He was alive, and he was doing _great,_ woman! Hide was taking proper care of him and would give him the love that boy fucking deserved, unlike the poison he could feel coming from that apartment. That family.

_Those people._

“Did he express any prior . . . ticks? Problems? He’s quite violent, and it’s proven that anger does not spontaneously appear. You said that he ran away, so it’s possible that he might have encountered street-level brutality. However, _his_ level is rather . . .”

Asaoka pressed her lips together. “He used to be very angry. He would scream and threaten my son, even if it never became physical. My husband always came between them.”

_Kaneki would never. Stop lying._

“I see,” Akira was thoughtful. Distrust glowed in her eyes. “If possible, Ms Asaoka, would you mind if we came back and discussed another time inside? Kaneki Ken’s profile is highly confidential, you see, so it would be best to have a more secure chat. In fact, we’d welcome you to the 20th Ward Branch.”

The last thing Hide wanted to do was to spend more time with this woman.

He felt sick to his stomach. He had gone behind Kaneki’s back and prodded at the flames of something Kaneki obviously wanted to forget. He ran away, and he hadn’t come back. That part was true, Hide knew. This woman was a snake; polite and smooth, but slippery and _evil._

Judging by the look on her face, Hide’s suspicions turned far darker.

The woman wanted Kaneki to be dead. She wanted nothing to do with him. If he really ran away, then if she just hated him, then she would probably gladly be rid of him. No, something else had happened here.

She’d wanted Kaneki _gone._ Taken. Stolen.

Killed.

Hide’s hands were shaking, so he calmly placed them in his pockets. His head was whirring. She was in deep. She was in just as deep as Kaneki, and she’d tried to have him killed. Maybe her son. Maybe her cousin. Shit, what had Kaneki been _running_ from? Was everyone in this city so . . . so dark? Everyone either seemed to be crawling out of Hell for justice, like Amon, or just ruling over the place that had beaten them down.

Like Kaneki.

“I’d be glad to help,” she said. “He’s . . . I think he’s very lost. The CCG could help him by detaining him, I’m sure. When would suit?”

“Anytime tomorrow, if that’s fine,” Akira was gracious and gentle. “Please. Bring your husband if you want. The more the merrier. Please, it’s a very casual affair.”

“Thank you,” said Asaoka. “I really appreciate it.”

She bowed respectfully and watched them walk away. Hide felt her eyes drill into his back. She was bad. She was _bad._ Kaneki? Lost? Angry?

The woman had tried to have him killed!

God, maybe she’d actually succeeded.

Akira and he didn’t speak until they were out of the apartment complex. Then, Akira’s face turned sour.

“Lying bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

* * *

 

Kaneki was in bad shape, and he knew it. Friday nights should have just been delivery nights. It would be easier. It would involve fresh air and _definitely_ not the taking of drugs. Definitely not getting high. And, most of all, _definitely_ not reminding himself that he couldn’t fucking overdose and die.

Piece of shit, he was.

Worst of all, he’d been thinking about _her._ His aunt. Asaoka, the lord and lady herself. Was she disappointed that he hadn’t died? It was fine, they’d smashed his head in enough times with the brick that he didn’t have any taste left, but maybe that wasn’t enough. Did they pay her for the kidney they stole? That one, at least, had never grown back.

How was his cousin? His uncle? Was their drug ring going strong?

Did he really care?

If he went to their doorstep now, and his uncle tried to beat him to a pulp again, Kaneki would welcome it. It wouldn’t even hurt. He couldn’t remember what they felt like. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to wake up the morning after, bruises swelling under his skin and wincing as he tried to move. He couldn’t remember the smell of the smoke in their house. He couldn’t remember the terror of coming home late.

He was thinking too much.

Kaneki sealed the last bag up. No bad batches this time. His head was throbbing, but he’d forgotten if it hurt or not. He watched his hands shake as they tried to work. He hadn’t been this high in a while. High, and still lucid. What a fucking _shame._

Deciding he was done with the task at hand, he shoved the bag away and reclined back on the chair. He was bored. He was bored with being _alive,_ and knowing that he was hurt but he didn’t know whether it was pain. He was tired of feeling so _shit_ all the time, and so tired of not even being able to be angry about it.

He was so tired of being angry.

He reached for his phone, silently cursing himself for not having any games on it. Of course he didn’t; it was for work. It contained only Eto’s number. He’d forgotten why, but it didn’t really seem necessary to remember.

Calling Hide sounded like a great idea.

Had he ever called him? No, he’d just made out with him in night clubs and on couches. Maybe he skipped that whole phase. Was that even a phase? What did being in a ‘relationship’ entail? No, that was clingy and weird. He’d just be bothersome and ruin Hide’s night because he was _high as balls_ and a _serial killer_ and he was so fucking _insane—_

He was already hitting the ‘Call’ button. He hadn’t even noticed he was dialling the number.

Shit.

_Abort abort abort abort—_

_“Hey, Kaneki! How are you?”_

Shoot him in the _fucking face._

* * *

 

Hide watched the cars driving down the road in the distance. He’d stepped out for some fresh air, his thoughts filled with _what was wrong with that woman_ when Kaneki, of all people, had called.

It wasn’t like he’d saved Kaneki’s ‘work’ number. Definitely.

“Hey, Kaneki! How are you?”

The other end of the line was white noise. Faintly, he heard Kaneki breathing. Was Kaneki in trouble? Was he hurt? What was wrong? Shit, why wasn’t he speaking, he should—

_“Sorry,_ ” Kaneki said suddenly. _“I shouldn’t . . . I shouldn’t have called.”_

Oh.

He was high.

“Don’t apologise! I like talking to you. But you didn’t tell me, how are you?”

_“I am . . .”_ High. Kaneki was _so_ high where the fuck was he? Okay, Hide would get him. He couldn’t deal with leaving Kaneki like this. No. This wasn’t safe for him, and after that whole encounter with his aunt, Hide was more scared than ever for him.

What if people were still after him? What if she was still trying to kill him?

“Kaneki, how many grams have you taken?”

_“I’m not high.”_

_“Kaneki,”_ Hide pressed.

_“It wears off quickly,”_ Kaneki’s tired voice was hardly reassuring. _“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, and I just—”_

“I’m coming to get you.”

“ _No.”_

“I am. Where are you? Are you in the 24th ward again? Look, I can come—”

_“Hide, please, don’t! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call you. I’ve just worried you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_

“Hey,” Hide started, trying to be as gentle as he could through the plastic receiver of his phone. “It’s okay. I’m coming, okay?”

_“No, please. It’ll last only, maybe, ten minutes. It’s fine. I’m fine. I swear, I’m fine. Please don’t put yourself in danger. Please, shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”_

“Then, when you sober up, come here.”

_“I’d be such a bother, I don’t—”_

“No. I have a fine collection of pot noodles, and I couldn’t rest easy knowing you were going places alone in that state.”

_“I’m sorry. I’m worrying you, I’m sorry.”_

“I worry because I care about you,” Hide wanted Kaneki to know so many things. God, he wanted Kaneki to know that he could _never_ bother Hide. Only when he didn’t take care of himself, and that was because Hide wanted to take care of him. “That’s not a bad thing.”

He heard Kaneki exhale on the other end of the line. _“I’m . . . thank you.”_

“Anytime, Kaneki,” he said. “Now hurry up and get over here, I’ll put some coffee on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just realised how much i swear smh  
> not even gonna lie i swear this much in real life how aussie can i get help
> 
> im a sucker for cute Hidekane and HNNNNG LET THEM BE HAPPY
> 
> I love you all, thank you so much for your patience and support! Hope you enjoyed ;D


	37. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hnnnnnng feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god im late again i am so SORRY argh  
> please enjoy this its a lot of like  
> angst fluff??? i think thats a thing  
> Not proofed at all i just wrote the shit and posted it i will fix it i promise later but not now  
> pls forgive me its nearly twice as long as a normal chapter

Thunder rolled across the sky above him. Lightning flashed, glowing against the water flooding the asphalt. Water stained dark red with blood.

In the distance, the lights from the train tracks shone, outlining his silhouette in white. Light refracted off the soaked, fluid edges of his clothing. Off his hands. Hands stained dark red with blood.

He wasn’t moving when Hide found him.

He stood, arms limp by his sides but hands gripping with white knuckles to the hilt of two knives. His hair was plastered down against his skin with the falling water. Spring showers, the hope of farmers and the turn of the seasons, was a bad omen for Hide.

So many people were dead.

Hesitantly, Hide worked his way to wards Kaneki, depositing his phone in his pocket. He must have called him sixty times over the course of two hours when Kaneki had neglected to come.

This was where he had been.

“Hey, Kaneki,” he said softly, his voice swallowed up by the all-encompassing roar of the falling rain. Water dripped off his lips as he spoke. “You all right?”

Nothing.

His gaze was turned down, regarding the carnage he had made. Hide swallowed. He couldn’t look at this now. He couldn’t look at this _now._

There had to be a reason. There had to be a justification.

Until then, he would take care of Kaneki, because he _needed_ it.

“Yo,” he said again, gently and slowly reaching out to press a palm to Kaneki’s shoulder. Slow and steady, in full view, like he was dealing with a skittish animal. That’s what Kaneki was: one wrong move, and Hide wasn’t sure how he would react. “Wild day, huh?”

No response.

“You’re all right now, Kaneki, it’s fine,” he said slowly, voice low. Calm, he thought, be calm. Kaneki may not be reacting, but some of what he was saying must have been getting through. He was sure. “You’re safe now.”

Still nothing.

This wasn’t good. He had to act fast. They were _this_ close to a station, where there would no doubt be cameras, and Kaneki had just killed over ten men, Hide guessed. Sure, Hide had pulled his hood up against the rain, but Kaneki didn’t even have his usual scarf. He had to be fast.

He had to get through to Kaneki.

“Hey, now,” he cooed softly, trying to stay steady despite the chill seeping into his bones. “Don’t just ignore me, yeah? Let’s get you home, okay? So, let me take these.” Slowly, he reached out with his other hand and brushed at Kaneki’s sleeve, reaching down to take the cold metal of the knife in one of his hands.

Kaneki’s hands were ice cold and shaking.

“You’re okay,” he repeated. It had started to feel like a mantra. They had no time. They had no time for this, shit. With luck, there would be a delay. Hide was so sure that they had been seen already. If Kaneki stayed here, he’d be in danger.

His hand closed around the edge of the hilt, Kaneki’s cold skin burning against his own. “It’s all right, you can let it go. You don’t need it anymore.

Kaneki’s hands loosened, and he edged the knife away. Good. Progress. _Progress._ Even if Kaneki had yet to make a proper response, he was conscious. He could understand that Hide was there. Thank _God._ Carefully and quickly, Hide repeated the process with the other knife.

He shoved them into his pocket, not knowing what else to do with them.

“You did good, hey?” he ran a hand through Kaneki’s hair, lifting the sopping mop off his face. Beneath it, his eyes were as wide and empty as Hide had expected. It was like he’d locked himself out.

Like he’d switched himself off.

“Let’s get you home.”

* * *

 

“Get in!” Touka hissed, holding the door open for them. Hide didn’t even give himself the time to be confused or surprised that _Touka_ was his roommate. He should have realised, honestly. That, and the dark-haired boy also in the building. He didn’t even spare them a glance.

“Get him in the shower,” Touka said, voice stronger as she closed the door. Hide heard five different bolts slide. Wordlessly, he complied. Kaneki was soaked to the bone, and the smell of blood filled the room. Kaneki had yet to utter a single word and had only become malleable to Hide’s gentle directions and tugs.

It was worrying.

The other person in the room, the tall boy with dark hair that Hide recognised as Ayato, Touka’s brother from his great moment at the bar that _other time_ Hide almost got killed, threw open the bathroom door for them and flicked on the light.

“Okay, Kaneki, in you go, you’ve—”

Touka came up behind and shoved them both in. “You’ll need to help him. We’ll give you some privacy.”

It could have been funny if not for the soul-crushing weight of anxiety in the room.

They shut the door, and Hide exhaled quietly. Kaneki was deadly still, as he had been the entire time. Hide swallowed, trying to hide the worry tying his stomach into knots. He couldn’t be like this. For once, he was the one taking care of Kaneki, and he had to keep it that way. He had to help Kaneki.

He reached towards the shower and turned the hot tap on, blasting into the tub beneath it. It was cold. In the time it took to heat up, he would held Kaneki strip in the most un-sexy way he had ever imagined.

He didn’t even care about whether he was disappointed.

“All right, Kaneki, can you do this on your own or do you want my help?”

Nothing.

“My help it is.” Hide gave him a shaky smile. He had no idea what to do. Just go, just go, just go. Be logical. What was logical?

“Your coat is super wet, let’s get that off first. Help me, yeah?” Slowly, he worked at the edges of his jacket, peeling them off the turtle-neck jumper beneath. Every movement was slow and gentle as the room began to fill with steam from the hot water. He rolled the top down over Kaneki’s back and tugged his arms free. Kaneki was like a rag doll, completely limp.

Hide was beyond worried.

“All right, you’re still wet as fuck.” He had to be happy. Kaneki needed something positive. Even if Kaneki gave him no response, Hide’s instinct was to stay consistent. He wanted Kaneki to know that he wouldn’t change. That he wouldn’t be scared or threatened.

Even if so many people were dead.

He tugged the zipper over his turtleneck down before reaching for the hem and trying to tug it over Kaneki’s head. This was harder. “Could you hold you arms up for me, please?”

Nothing.

“So difficult,” he muttered jokingly, picking up both of Kaneki’s arms and holding them above his head. “Just hold them here. Just for a little.”

Kaneki complied. Thank _God._

“Thank you,” he said, pushing the hair off Kaneki’s face. Already he was used to Kaneki not looking at him. He had already grown used to Kaneki’s vacant stare, seeing something else in the room. It didn’t matter.

He started to tug up the jumper, seeing the t-shirt below start to come up as well. No matter. They both needed to come off.

Kaneki jumped beneath him, and suddenly he was grabbing at the hem of his top, holding it down over his torso. Even if his gaze hadn’t changed, his eyes were suddenly wide and terrified.

A response. A conscious response.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay. Sorry, Kaneki,” he said. He showed Kaneki his empty palms. When had he started treating Kaneki the same as he did a frightened animal? Was that offensive? He didn’t know, but it seemed to work.

“I’m sorry, but you need to get the wet clothes off and get in the warm water. You’ll get sick.”

_There’s blood all over them._

Kaneki was shaking now. Around the hem of his clothes, his knuckles were white. Shit.

“Hey,” he cooed gently, reaching out to rub at his shoulders. “You’re okay. I get it, you don’t want me to see, right? What if I don’t look? I’ll keep my eyes closed the whole time, I promise.”

Still no response.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Wordlessly, Hide bundled him against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he told the smaller man. _I’m sorry that I’m not better. I’m sorry that I can’t understand everything. I’m sorry that people have hurt you and I don’t know how to make it better._ “I’m sorry.”

He pressed a kiss to Kaneki’s hair, tasting the rain on his lips. He wished he knew how to do this better. He wished he could help more. “You’re okay now,” he whispered. “I’ll look after you. You’ll be okay.”

He took a deep breath, pushing Kaneki to arm’s length. He had to be practical, now. Kaneki came before Hide wanting to hold him. “Now, you need a shower. Wash yourself off. The room’s warm now. I won’t look, okay?” he touched a finger to Kaneki’s chin, making sure their eyes met. “I’ll close my eyes. I promise.”

Kaneki didn’t nod, but rather closed his eyes in acceptance. A response. At last, a response, thank _God._

“Okay, you ready?” Hide asked, giving Kaneki a second. The other made no response, as Hide was growing increasingly aware. It didn’t matter. Kaneki was dealing with something Hide didn’t know anything about and didn’t understand. Patience. He had to be patient.

And he had to keep to his promises.

“Eyes closed,” he reminded Kaneki, holding the hem of his top. “Let’s go.”

It was one single movement. Wet and heavy, he lifted off the woollen turtleneck off and over Kaneki’s head blindly, pulling it away.

“Is it off?” he asked, eyes closed. “Like, I can’t see.”

Silence.

“Okay, I get it, but you’ve gotta tell me somehow or I’ll need to open my eyes. Shit, I didn’t think this through,” he added in an undertone. “So, like—”

There was the jingle of a belt, and a lot of rustling. Wet clothes were dumped into Hide’s arms and the next thing he heard was the shower curtain being drawn.

Thank _God._

“Can I open my eyes yet?” he asked.

No response.

He felt himself smiling in relief. Kaneki was okay. Kaneki was _okay._ Even if he wasn’t speaking, even if he only moved when Hide wouldn’t look, it was something.

“Okay, I’m opening my eyes,” he said, reaching out for the door handle. He squinted them open against the harsh light, and gave a careful glance over his shoulder to make sure everything was all right.

The shower curtain was drawn. Water was moving.

Things would be okay.

* * *

 

“So how was the strip-tease?” Touka asked, sitting at the table. Despite the comment, there was no amusement on her face. Her brother was sitting beside her, hunched over what looked like homework. He was tapping his pen.

“Not gonna lie, I had imagined the first strip tease a little differently,” Hide joked. “Yo, where’s the laundry?”

“Last room. Just dump that shit in the bucket.”

Hide headed towards the room, and found the machine tucked into the space between the back door and the wall. Next to it was an old blue tub. Hide guessed she’d meant that and dumped them in it. “I can wash them,” he called, trying to be polite. “I’m a grown-ass man and I _can_ use a machine.”

“Let Kaneki. He’ll lose his shit if he finds out you did it for him.”

“Yeah, _but_ —”

“Sit down, Nagachika,” Touka snapped from the kitchen. “Kaneki can handle his own problems. You’ve helped him enough.”

_Have I?_

“Yeah, but I can do it,” he squatted down, opening the front-loader. “It’s just a few buttons, like, not the end of the world.”

A shadow appeared in the doorway. “It’s not your job,” Ayato said. “You’re not his carer.”

Hide grinned at him. “No, just his boyfriend.”

“Jesus Christ, Ayato, stop this guy!”

Ayato scowled at him. “Fine. I’ll help, though. You’re not responsible for what Kaneki does.”

“Are you?”

“No,” Ayato grumbled, squatting beside him. He dug around for the washing powder and loaded the machine. “Make sure it’s cold wash. We don’t want any blood setting.”

“Do this often?” Hide joked. Ayato didn’t return his good humour.

“What kind of house do you think this is?”

In silence, they went about bundling up the clothes and tossing them in. Hide clicked the door closed, and Ayato keyed in the right buttons and hit start. He felt hopelessly out of place. It always seemed to be this way when he was around the Kirishimas. They were so bright and strong and angry, he felt small in comparison.

“Thanks,” Ayato said, standing. Hide followed his lead, noticing only slightly that Ayato was nearly his height, taller than Kaneki. It only reminded him of how small Kaneki really was.

“No problem,” he replied. “I guess I should, like, get out of your hair now or something, right?”

Ayato gave him a sharp look; a scan up and down before he shrugged. It made Hide feel like he’d just passed a test. “You’re welcome to stay. It’s pissing down out there, and, well, you’re probably the only person keeping Kaneki in one piece at this stage.”

Hide was too young and pure for this _life_ he was living.

“Kaneki would . . .” Hide wasn’t sure. He followed the boy back to the table, where Touka sat, still calmly holding her cup of coffee. Her lashes cast long, restless shadows over her cheekbones. She wouldn’t admit it out of pride, but Hide knew what they were asking him.

_Stay for him._

“I’ll stay until he’s sleeping,” Hide said. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

The look Touka gave him was the nicest one he’d ever received from her.

* * *

 

_“Kaneki Ken, yeah?” the man was tall. Why were gang leaders always so fucking tall? They always seemed to be the same; huge, hulking, large, cruel faces, the same sneer. In the right light they could even have the same wide nose and beady eyes. The same white hair. The same white suit._

_All it took was a trick of the light._

_“That’s me,” he said slowly. “Who are you?”_

_“The two men you killed yesterday,” the man continued, his voice simmering with anger. “Were ours.”_

_Kaneki counted the men behind him: thirteen._

_He’d have to kill thirteen men._

_Thunder rolled across the sky. The air was heavy with the smell of rain and concrete. Kaneki would have to kill thirteen men. If he scrubbed at his hands until they bled, this time, could he face Hide again?_

_Thirteen living men._

_“What do you want, then?” he asked, meeting the taller man’s eyes. “How do you want me to die?”_

_“Come with us,” he said. “It’s too crowded here.”_

_It was: they were on the steps of Helter Skelter. Kaneki had been so close, hadn’t he? Hide was so genuine and kind and caring and for once, Kaneki didn’t feel terrible accepting the offer. Hide made it feel like he_ wanted _Kaneki there. He’d be lying if he wasn’t excited to see Hide again, before that._

_Now there would be more dead by his hands, more tally marks. How could he deal with that?_

_Walking towards the train tracks, Kaneki was surrounded on all sides by men. They were all tall and muscular and_ angry.

_Kaneki probably deserved death._

_Fuck that, he definitely did._

_“This is fine,” their leader said, stopping. Kaneki leaned against the final concrete wall, the back of an apartment building. A blind spot for civilians and a television show for the train station cameras. This gang wanted everyone to know that he was dead._

_Kaneki wanted that too._

_Or he would have, if he hadn’t told Hide he’d come._

_What was he doing?_

_“You killed two of our men,” the leader repeated, pulling out a gun. “You deserve this. But first, I want to check something.”_

_Kaneki said nothing. He stared at the metal object in the man’s hand. He knew how it would go. He knew this pattern. It happened to him every other night, yet the gangs never ceased._

_“Something you found in Eto’s diary?” he mused. “Surely her day-to-day life isn’t that interesting.”_

_“Nope,” the man stepped closer, holding the gun but not pointing it at Kaneki. “I heard a rumour. She’s the one who told me how to find you, after all. Do you know—_ did _you know Omori Yakumo? Yamori?”_

_Kaneki’s hands went deadly cold. “Yeah. Why?”_

_The man’s face grew into a grimace. “Then, is it true you killed him?”_

_“Yes,” Kaneki repeated. “Why?”_

_“Boss, this isn’t—”_

_“Quiet, Takumi!” another hissed in the background. Their ‘boss’ continued. Disgust was written into the lines of his face. Kaneki’s arms were growing cold. The same hollow, splitting icy feeling was growing from his toes to the hair on his head. This wasn’t good. He didn’t want to think about_ that man _at a time like this. Everything was different now, he tried to tell himself._ Everything was different.

_He would never be like that again._

_“So then, Kaneki Ken,” the man took another step forward, as if he could sense Kaneki’s coldness. “I heard one more rumour about it.”_

_Don’t say it._

_Do not_

_Say_

_It_

_“Is it true you ate him?”_

* * *

 

Ayato worked diligently beside them as Hide sipped on his coffee. The time ticked on, but the shower kept going. Touka gave him a dull look when she noticed him checking his phone for the time.

“He takes a while,” she said. “He’s . . . meticulous.”

_Paranoid._

“Nothing wrong with being clean,” he quipped. “Good for the soul.”

“Not the water bill,” Ayato murmured.

“Neither is your private school fees,” Touka snapped. “Stop complaining.”

Hide watched, nervous. The two siblings seemed to have constant sparks flying between them. It was an odd kind of familial love.

“When are you going to bring up the obvious?” Ayato continued, scowling. “That Kaneki is—”

“You trying to ruin their marriage?”

“Not married,” Hide reminded them both, but neither heard him.

“No, but Kaneki’s hardly _easy_ to deal with—”

“ _You’re_ not easy to deal with, Ayato! Be quiet!”

“Touka, you’re missing the point!”

“There is no point!”

“Whoa, calm down, World War Three,” Hide butted in, smiling. “No need to argue at, like . . . four in the morning? Yeah, that.”

Ayato scowled at his papers, and Touka smacked him on the back of the head. “Idiot.”

And just like that, things were calm.

He hoped.

“He’s trying to tell you that Kaneki’s problems run longer than Ayato’s list of detentions,” Touka muttered. “I’m guessing you already knew that. You seem the kind of guy that can figure that out.”

Hide wasn’t sure whether to be complimented or worried. But the fact was that she was right: he did know.

“It’s good you can read him like that,” Touka said, stirring her coffee. “Because he can’t do it for shit.”

“Kaneki can’t? Doesn’t seem that way.”

“Most of the time,” Touka added for him. She sat back in her chair, drawing her legs up to her chest. Her pyjamas had rabbit patterns on them.

“He doesn’t have, like, the ability to read between lines. You know that already, I’m sure. When he was younger, in that picture I gave you, he used to be good. Really good.”

“Then he got driven up the wall and lost it,” Ayato cut in. Touka shot him a glare.

“Don’t act like you know about it,” she frowned. “But he can’t. So it’s good you’re perceptive. You’re better than me or Aya _shit_ over here. Maybe that’s why you can survive sucking the face off Tokyo’s most violent and active hit man and still work at the CCG.”

Hide doubted it.

“Well, he doesn’t make it hard,” Hide grinned. “That helps.”

“That’s true,” Touka said, nodding. “Unless he gets like this.”

_Like this._

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” Hide almost didn’t want to know. It was clear that he knew the least in this house, and Touka seemed afraid of telling him. Maybe not afraid, judging by the perpetual disgruntled look, but . . . protective. In a way that her brother wasn’t.

“When he hits the ‘off’ switch,” Ayato added. He closed his notebook. “Becomes a vegetable.”

“He’s not a _vegetable,”_ Hide said, trying to lighten the mood. “He’s, just, uh . . .”

“Withdrawn as fuck and unresponsive,” Touka supplied. “Last time he went like this, he ran off for a week and we didn’t hear a word. He knew he was all right physically, but . . . it’s not a good state of mind to be in. How many did he kill?”

“More than ten,” Hide supplied. Remembering the number of bodies that surrounded him, he felt heavy. “There were a lot.”

“Eto sent them,” Ayato said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. “The two he killed yesterday were because she sent Kaneki after them. They read her ‘diary’, apparently. Basically that meant they went through her shit. They died. And now, because she loves conflict, she gave them the directions to him.”

_Who’s Eto?_

“Yeah, but they’re dead now and Kaneki isn’t,” Touka drained her cup of the coffee.

“Like he would be.”

“Shut up,” Touka hissed.

They were hiding something.

Now seemed like the best time to ask, Hide realised. Why did Kaneki wear make up?

“Are you the one that does his makeup?” Hide asked her, making sure to maintain eye contact. He already knew the answer. “You do it really well.”

“Of course I am,” Touka grumbled. “Who else would it be?”

“Why is there so much make-up on his neck?”

Touka’s mood darkened in a second. To his right, Ayato also turned quiet. Hide felt like he’d hit a landmine. Crap, he should have been more careful than this. It was something more serious than he had anticipated.

That ruled out a lot of options. That one theory Hide had thought of, that one connection he’d made that he _hated,_ that seemed more and more true.

That wasn’t good.

“Ask him,” Touka murmured. “You may beat a lot of my expectations, but that one is the last test, I guess.”

Hide’s heart sank. God, everything was pointing to _that_ and he didn’t want it.

“I’m going to bed.” Ayato stood suddenly, his chair screeching on tiles. “You talk about Kaneki all you want, since you’re apparently his _mother_.”

“I’m not his fucking mother,” Touka hissed. “And you owe him too, Ayato!”

He waved her off, heading to his room. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

He slammed the door shut.

Touka glared him down for a long moment so hard that Hide thought the wood of his door would burst into flames. Then she sighed tiredly, running a hand through her hair. “Ungrateful shit.”

“He’s a good kid,” Hide said quietly. “Ah, the throes of adolescence.”

“The only reason he can go to school is because of Kaneki,” she grumbled. “The only reason that he’s not under Aogiri’s fucking _thumb_ is because of Kaneki, and Kaneki is . . .” _like this._

They were angry.

But no one was angry _at_ Kaneki.

Touka stood suddenly, turning to the sink to rinse her mug out. “Thinking about it isn’t good. You’ll destroy yourself if you try and find out everything, Nagachika. Don’t dive too deep. It’s not something the normal person can handle.”

“You make it seem like it’s, like, a giant conspiracy. No—wait, I get it! You guys are actually aliens.”

Touka snorted, placing her mug roughly on the windowsill. “I’m going to bed. Kaneki will be needing clothes, so just go through his shit, I guess. Take my advice and just . . . pretend those two years he was gone didn’t happen, yeah? Kaneki does. We do. Everyone does. You should, too.”

“I’ll take that on board,” he said, trying to reassure her.

She gave him a harsh glance, before shrugging. “You are so full of shit.”

“I try my hardest.”

Touka tightened her dressing gown around her waist. “Just . . . look after Kaneki, yeah? He won’t listen to us, but he listens to you. Make sure he sleeps. If you don’t, he’ll just sit there.”

Everyone in this house worried about Kaneki just as much as he did, Hide knew. And he could see that deep down, Touka bore some small flame of resentment. He was a stranger that could help Kaneki in ways she couldn’t. She’d known Kaneki longer. She’d known him _before. They_ lived in the same house. _They_ took care of each other.

Hide understood that.

But Touka was asking with absolute sincerity that he help. Who the hell would he be to refuse?

“Of course.”

* * *

 

_When he came to, he was staring at it: death._

_Again. He’d done it again._

_Every bone in his body was ice cold. He hated it. He hated it he hated it he hated it. Why? Why was he alive? What godforsaken curse made it so that he was the one to live when someone else could? Irimi? Koma? Sante? Ijiro? Anyone else but him._

_Why was it him?_

_And why, God, why did he keep killing more people?_

_It was raining. In the distance he heard thunder, he saw the flashes of lighting, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care. He was done. Let him catch hypothermia. Let him die. Let him die let him die let—him—die._

_Touka would be better off. Ayato would be better off. Hide would be so much better off going after better people, being around better things and doing anything other than spending time with him because he was so fucking_ gross. _God._

_Let the iciness he felt consume him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t look away from that sea of blood. He had done it. He had done it._

_Slowly, it started to mean less. Human lives were so fragile. He destroyed so many all the time._

_He didn’t care about causes. He didn’t care about Kanou. He didn’t care about potentials or futures or love or recovery or hope. He didn’t care._

_Let someone else destroy him._

* * *

 

Kaneki’s room was a mixture of monk-levels of tidiness added with a colossal, jammed collection of novels. His bed was unmade, but every single book on his shelf was straight and ordered, compressed between the constraints of the shelf and other books stacked on top where they could fit. They were all old and well-read.

Kaneki _did_ do Literature, after all.

His drawers were just as crisp and clean and ordered. It was almost creepy. Hide pulled out what he hoped were pyjamas and bundled them up. The shower was still running when he slipped them through the door and balanced them on the small stool.

Just in time, too, because the water cut off right after.

Anxiously, Hide waited. Worry was returning to his gut. The only light on in Kaneki’s apartment was the dim kitchen light. Everyone was asleep (probably), and Hide wasn’t sure how he was going to help Kaneki at all.

Was Kaneki even okay?

What would he be like?

Should Hide have helped him more?

God, Hide never should have let him go alone.

But was he okay now? Kaneki must resent him so much oh _God_ why hadn’t he thought of that before. He was—

Kaneki opened the door and flicked off the bathroom light. He’d tossed on the baggy clothes Hide had left him. His hair was still wet and covering the top half of his face, but Hide could see the edges of his eyes open in shock upon seeing him still there.

“Yo,” he said, grinning. “Did the warm water make you feel better?”

Nothing. Kaneki swayed slightly from side to side. Hide jumped up, reaching out to steady him, but the other inched away.

“Um, sorry for being so, well . . .” Hide scratched at his cheek lamely. What was he meant to say? Kaneki _seemed_ better, but Hide wasn’t sure if a sudden snap would cause a relapse into Human Stone state.

“I hope you’re better,” he settled on. “I’ll leave once I know you’re in bed and okay. Is that all right?”

Kaneki said nothing. He stared at the ground. Desperately, Hide wanted a reply. Not words. Words would be great, but they weren’t necessary. Anything that showed him that Kaneki was okay. Anything.

_“Make sure he listens to you.”_

That’s right, Hide had to take charge. He couldn’t afford to be stopping everything. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get you to bed.”

He headed to Kaneki’s bedroom and flicked on the light. Kaneki padded along behind him silently. That was good, Hide told himself. That was good.

“Have a seat, good sir,” Hide smiled, bowing towards the bed. “And then sweet dreams. Touka wants me to make sure you sleep, so I will make sure. Nothing gets by me, Kaneki. Nothin’.”

Mutely, Kaneki sat on the bed. His silent obedience was a little worrying, but Hide wasn’t sure what else to do. Kaneki was mature enough to know how to go to sleep, right?

Surely, he wouldn’t just sit there all night, right?

Something told Hide otherwise.

“Okay, you know the drill,” Hide continued. His smile and positivity was starting to disgust him. How could he force that happiness onto his face when Kaneki was like _this_? God, how long would this keep up? Just let Kaneki be okay. Let Kaneki be _okay._

“Lie down, blankets up. I know I can’t _make_ you sleep, but lying down helps.”

Kaneki didn’t move.

“Making me work for my money, huh?” Hide joked, stepping forward. “Well, I guess I’ll just tuck you in, huh?”

Kaneki grabbed at his arm so strongly and suddenly Hide didn’t even jump. His hands were shaking. His skin was red and raw from what could have been boiling water in the shower. His nails were black. His scarred knuckles were freshly scabbed-over.

Kaneki was looking at him.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Hide didn’t even think twice before he held him to his chest, nearly crushing the life out of him. Kaneki was shaking. He’d been shaking the whole time and Hide hadn’t _noticed._

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured against Kaneki’s damp hair. “Please, don’t be sorry. You’re okay. It’s fine. It’s fine.”

He didn’t know how long they stood there, Hide muttering reassuring uselessness against Kaneki’s hair and the other boy whispering his constant and infinite apologies into the fabric of his top. What were they? What even were they?

Just let Kaneki be okay.

The moment eventually ended, and Hide sat Kaneki back down on the bed. “Now, can you promise me you’ll sleep?”

He nodded. It was only a small, slight movement of the chin, but Hide saw. Good. That was good. That was _good._

“Thank you,” Hide said, relieved. “Then, you’re a big, strong boy and can look after yourself, I know it. I’ll head home now. You’ll be okay.”

He tried to straighten, but Kaneki once again grabbed his hand.

“ _Don’t go.”_

“Kaneki?”

“Please, don’t leave.”

Hide thought about what was waiting for him: work, his dorm, Nishio, the rain, worrying about Kaneki, some more rain, probably a lot of coffee, more worrying about Kaneki, a night spent worrying about Kaneki.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

Kaneki met his eyes for the first time that night, and Hide had never felt more inadequate. Kaneki’s eyes, usually concealed with makeup, were red and raw and aching with fatigue and something Hide didn’t even _know_ about. They were the eyes that had seen Hell, Hide was sure. They were broken to pieces and held together with make-up and glasses and soft words.

How could Hide leave him at all?

“I’ll stay,” he repeated, holding Kaneki’s face. “I won’t leave you again. I promise.”

Kaneki gave him the briefest of smiles, and Hide felt like he could have cried.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

* * *

 

_“You’re really selfish,”_ Irimi told him. She lay opposite him on the bed, morning light in her hair. Her face was pale and very dead. She was another ghost. “ _Taking him for granted. He’s just a good guy. You know you don’t deserve him.”_

Kaneki agreed. He did not deserve Hide.

_“So you’re just going to accept it? You’re the worst.”_

Kaneki was the worst.

Maybe that was okay.

_“What’s wrong with you? People die all the time. You kill people all the time. Why don’t you just die? What would be so bad about that, Kaneki? Why don’t you?”_

“Nothing,” he told her.

She scowled at him, angry. _“What makes you think he could ever love you? What makes you think you’re worth his love in any way?”_

She was an illusion. She wasn’t there. Kaneki knew that.

“I’m not,” he agreed. “But . . . I’m grateful.”

Irimi’s face changed. Suddenly, they were in their cell again, years ago. The light was dim and Koma was asleep on the ground nearby, next to Sante and the others. She played with his hair.

_“You have such nice hair,” she smiled at him, running her fingers through it. “Look after it. One day you’ll have someone better than me to play with it.”_

_“I don’t need anyone else,” he muttered. It was true; as long as they got free, he didn’t need anyone. He only needed his group to be alive and well and for there to be fresh air on their faces and no danger on their shoulders. That was all he needed._

_Irimi’s brow tightened. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, Kaneki,” she said, cupping his face tenderly. “You’re so young. You deserve so much better than this. Than all of us. You’re young and handsome and so lovely. Don’t waste your time with us. Dream. Be free. You can.”_

_“That’s just dreaming,” he murmured. “I don’t need such big dreams.”_

_Irimi squeezed at his cheeks. “You deserve the best, Kaneki Ken. Even in your darkest hour, remember that. Regardless of what happens, regardless of what they turn you into, never forget that.”_

_He looked up into her eyes, burning with sincerity, and she smiled. The same wide smile that made her eyes reduce to gentle lines. A smile he only rarely saw._

_“When we’re free,” she told him. “Remember that.”_

Now, as the figure in the sheets became Hide, hair messy and face pressed against the pillow, an arm thrown around his waist, Kaneki realised how nice it was to be loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm  
> i hope that chronology made sense  
> I really hope you liked it! this chapter was weirdly hard for me to write. I like, wrote the first draft in an hour and then was like NO STOP ITS BAD REWRITE IT and now its here
> 
> Thank you everyone that read it! I hope you enjoyed, and the next instalment should be up soon~  
> I know that I, like, never reply to comments anymore but I read them all and I WILL get around to it! Thank you always, they are so nice all the time and I can't thank you all enough for just sticking with this story in general.
> 
> Have a great day or night, wherever you are!


	38. I Will Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, Investigator Hide, Kaneki, Asaoka, throats, and scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like you all expect me to be late at this stage anyways  
> im still sorry. i really do try.  
> nevertheless, pls enjoy this one! I think it turned out p good.  
> i mean anything with hidekane cuddles is wholesome on a spiritual level, but like  
> even more so

_“One may take the man from Hell, but no one may ever take Hell from the man.”_

Gently, Hide brushed his fingers across Kaneki’s soft head of hair. The other boy was still asleep, pressed against him, with every tense line ironed out of his face as he slept. Fatigue had long stained the skin of his face, amidst the tiny scars along his hairline and eyelids, as thin and as eyelashes.

He could only think of the line as he regarded him. Hide was lucky, he realised. He was so, so lucky to be born and raised in a place that would never hurt him. He had everything that the people he knew now did not. He had everything that Kaneki did not. Touka had been so _angry_ about what she didn’t have. And Hide knew that she had every right to be. Ayato was probably the same.

Why had he never seen Kaneki angry?

Kaneki was so accepting of _this._ Of being scarred. Of being a mess. Of being toyed with by the world and left to feel terrible. Didn’t he ever have enough of it? Hadn’t he ever just wanted to quit his life as a gang member? Although he had the potential to be ruthless and efficient, he could be so gentle Hide never understood. How could he be such a polarised human being? What kind of life created _that_?

There was so much Hide didn’t know. He wanted to know. He was curious and he wanted to know every second of Kaneki’s story because it felt like something Hide had _missed,_ something he should have been _there_ for.

The more Hide thought about it, the more hellish it became.

His Aunt. That family. This family. His life now. The two years no one seemed to want to talk about. Black hair. White hair. Scars. Makeup. The way Kaneki was always hiding something. The way he could lock himself in. The way he could disappear in an instant. The way he could clearly be shot through the head and then stand.

The way he smiled. The way his mouth would form that natural upward turn as he read a book. The way he, when confident Kaneki Ken patrolled the city, had that peculiar smirk that was always smug. His laughter. Even his puns, dammit.

How was Hide meant to divide that in half?

Kaneki was younger, but at the same time he was so _old._ He was so tired.

Gently, he brushed the delicate white bangs off his forehead. Kaneki was the same as a marble statue; unbendable until he broke. Made of stone. Unmovable.

 _“One may take the man from Hell, but no one may ever take Hell from the man.”_ The line Hide had so selfishly applied to himself. No, as he ran his fingers through those white locks, he remembered the second half of the line. The line for the boy who slept. The line for the forgotten.

_“For when they return, they carry it with them; with stone in their hearts and ice in their bones.”_

* * *

 

Kaneki blinked slowly, wincing in the bright light. He felt warm. His hands felt solid and alive, pressed against something weighing down the mattress beside him. Something giving off the warmth.

_Hide._

Just for this instant, just for this moment, let him forget. Let him forget everything that came before and what would come after. Let him forget who he was. What he was. Why he was. Nothing mattered.

All that mattered was Nagachika Hideyoshi, brushing the hair off his face with feather-light touches. The brush of warm, gentle fingertips against skin that was so used to being destroyed was comforting. It was _so_ comforting in their silence that he feared speaking up would destroy it.

He didn’t want it to end.

Hide’s sleepy smile was pressed into his arm, bent under his head like a pillow. His dark eyes caught the glaring light from the late morning and made them look the exact same translucent brown as a coffee. The last thing he could taste. The last warmth he could feel.

Before Hide.

The words were right there, on his tongue. Three simple words that made such little sound yet meant so much. On his tongue, they lay dying.

He couldn’t say them.

Saying them aloud would mean admitting it. Saying it aloud would mean they had entered the world. All things in the world could be taken; a lesson he had learnt a long time ago. He was afraid. He was so _fucking_ afraid that saying anything would mean it would break. That it would become as fake and as wrong as the world they lived in.

Let them die on his tongue.

Don’t spoil the moment.

* * *

 

_Kaneki had never meant to get attached to Touka._

_She was a shadow. A memory. Faint and distant, he had not been so angry at her. He was angry at the world. At their air they breathed. The food they ate. The lives they lived. He had so much anger and hate and so little time. He had thought he was alone in that endeavour._

_Touka developed a bad habit of proving him wrong._

_“Touka’s been jumped,” Uta told him when he walked in. “Down near Hamada’s. Go clean up.”_

_That had been the start. He had hurried over. He had run. He took the shortest route possible, dodging prying eyes and scaling walls in an attempt to get to Hamada’s club as fast as possible._

_He hated death._

_Kaneki had sprinted there, and when he found there he was met with screaming._

_“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Touka screamed. It was so loud and raw and divinely_ angry _that Kaneki stopped._

_He watched._

_She kicked him square in the throat, slamming her attacker into the brick wall. “You fucking scum! You’re no one to me! Fucking die!”_

_The man had no face and no name. Kaneki never even thought about him._

_All he saw was Hurricane Touka._

_“You think you have the right to try this? You think you get that right over me? I just want to fucking live here on my own terms! You don’t get to decide that for me!”_

_She was so angry at the world. At the man. At her life._

_At herself._

_“I’m sorry,” her attacker wheezed. She threw him down, spitting insults._

_“Don’t you fucking say sorry to me, you piece of shit!” She was screaming. “Don’t fucking apologise! You don’t have the right to take back what you’ve done to me!”_

_She was strong._

_The man scampered off, and Touka continued to scream after him. All manner of atrocities came from her mouth, but Kaneki didn’t even hear them._

_She was aflame with anger._

_When she whirled around to see him, it was still glowing in her eyes. Blood splattered her cheek, and her mouth was open, ready to scream him down too._

_So she did._

_“And you!” she stalked forward, finger jabbing at him furiously. “You’re so fucking selfish! Can’t you see past the end of your stubby nose, huh?”_

_She was Kirishima Touka._

_“’My backstory is so sad’—bullshit! ‘You only know my white-haired ass, not my story’—fuck that! You’re going to let this world fuck you over? You’re going to go and brood in the corner like a weak little shit? If you’re so angry, fucking fight back, you coward!”_

_And she wouldn’t let anyone forget it._

* * *

 

Hide thumbed at the crease forming between Kaneki’s eyebrows slowly. “You’ll get wrinkles,” he grinned. “Stop frowning so much.”

There were so many things he could have said. Things that would have demolished the comfort. Things that would have done a one-eighty flip on the scene they were in. Things that would probably make Hide cry or scream. Things that would make him scream. Things that would make Hide smile. Things that would make him happy.

He couldn’t say any of them. So he smiled ever so slightly, his face pressing into the sheets. He was happy. He was undeserving and horrible and the scum of the earth, but he was selfish and happy and just for once he wanted Hide’s smile to be for him.

Even if he was like this.

“You know,” Hide cut him off before he could speak, already seeing where the apology had started forming on his tongue. His smile was painfully tender, as if it would crack and liquid love would ooze out. “There’s a saying I know: ‘one ‘thank you’ is worth one thousand ‘sorry’s.’”

Kaneki could only stare.

How did someone like Hide even exist?

Hide winked at him, grinning. “So, I guess I can deal with the time taken for one thousand, but logically speaking, with three ‘thank yous’s you get three thousand ‘sorry’s. Ya feel?”

“I . . .” It wasn’t a lie. It would never be a lie.

“Thank you, Hide.”

His face broke into a giant grin, and the other nuzzled against his hair, laughing to himself. “You sound so nervous, Kaneki! Am I that stunning?”

Kaneki inhaled through the fabric of Hide’s shirt. It smelled like rain and sun-dried cotton. Of _Hide._ It was comforting. Kaneki let himself be hugged tightly, feeling Hide’s breath in his hair. Hearing his heartbeat from where he lay, tucked against the other’s collarbone.

Maybe he could say it.

Slowly, he hugged Hide back. The feeling of a healthy, comforting form in his arms made him feel dizzyingly whole. It was a world away from everything he knew. A word a way from what he deserved.

But it was what he got, and he was so, so thankful.

He couldn’t say the words.

He was too afraid of losing Hide, now.

“Hey, Kaneki,” Hide said softly, “you know I love you, yeah?”

Kaneki’s heart, his heart that he despised and wished would cease, the heart that never seemed to know when he should die, that very same heart stopped.

 _I love you,_ he wanted to say back. _I love you so much. I barely know you and you shouldn’t be here but God I love you please never leave me._

But he was too afraid to say the words, so instead he hugged Hide tighter, hoping he understood that instead.

* * *

 

_It happened when she got drunk._

_Touka was too quick to take up a challenge. Too competitive. Too proud. So she took shot after shot and Kaneki was left to walk her home._

_She was slurring and swaying so badly Kaneki had no choice but to support her weight. It made shivers run down his spine, memories still pressed into his skin, but he ignored it. Not now. Not now._

_He had already started to change._

_“It’s . . . fucking . . . my brother,” she slurred as he walked her up the apartment steps. “Ayato, what a dumbass.”_

_“What about your brother?” he responded levelly, all but holding her entire weight as they climbed the steps. Trust Touka’s apartment not to have a functioning elevator. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected one, the neighbourhood was so terrible. She was only sixteen._

_He had only been sixteen, too._

_“Ran off, the dick . . .” she was panting, as if the words were painful. Her eyes were glazed over, and Kaneki couldn’t tell whether they were tears or if her eyes were watering from irritation. Maybe both. He didn’t remember which was which at that stage._

_Her brother ran off. That wasn’t a new story in these parts._

_“That’s a shame,” he told her, not really thinking about it. “Is he okay?”_

_“I . . . why the fuck you asking, huh? Mind your own fucking business.”_

_They were silent for another six steps._

_“I don’t . . . know,” she said, voice thick. “Aogiri. I . . . I was so sick of . . . Anteiku, of it all . . . I went for help and he . . . fuck, what a dumbass. I’ll fucking destroy ‘im.”_

_She was growing steadily less coherent as they reached her floor. The lights flickered on and off as the summer insects bustled around them. Cicadas roared from the ground, six floors below. Paint was peeling of the cement walls. In the distance, he heard a car horn sound angrily._

_“Which one is your room?” he asked her, scanning the corridor. Touka tipped her head back onto his shoulder and gave him a glassy glare._

_“Don’t try and be . . .” she pushed him away, struggling to stand. She slumped against the wall, digging around her pockets sluggishly. “You don’t care. You left too, you changing bastard. Don’t . . .”_

Changing bastard.

_She pulled the keys free and gripped at the wall, trying to turn around and unlock her door. Everything was unsteady and unwinding. It was like the fabric of her bright, furious existence was fraying at the edges._

_He didn’t want her to._

_He didn’t._

_What would he do? Apologise? Be sorry that he couldn’t stay the same? Be sorry that the way he was before had died thousands of times over and eventually his reflection had grown different? Should he apologise for killing so many people? For trying to be free?_

_Should he be sorry that he didn’t just take the pain and let others be happy?_

_Touka jingled the key into the lock and threw the door open, panting from the effort. She gripped the doorframe, slim arms shaking. “I owe Kaneki Ken,” she said, oddly solid despite her intoxicated state. “But I don’t owe you.”_

_She moved into Helter Skelter’s apartments not long after. During that time, they didn’t speak. They didn’t speak until Kaneki came across a small, quick figure fighting in the rain, wearing Aogiri’s brand and screaming Kirishima anger._

_Until he brought him home._

* * *

 

His phone rang, and reality hit Hide like a truck.

CCG. Office.

_Asaoka._

Kaneki jumped in his arms, and looked around. “Phone?” he asked softly, confused. “Whose?”

“Mine,” Hide sighed, detaching himself. He reached over and tried to reach the vibrating device that had been in his pocket all night. What time was it?

Oh, shit.

He was late.

He turned to Kaneki, who looked dishevelled and downright mystified with what was happening. He was cute. He was so cute and holy _shit Hide was late to work—_

“Amon! Hello!”

“ _Nagachika, where are you? I’ve rung four times now—”_

“I’m sorry! I’ll be there ASAP, I promise! Is she there yet?”

_“Yes. We’ve started the questioning without you. Get here fast enough and maybe you can still talk to her.”_

That explained why he couldn’t hear anyone else in the background. They would have already been talking to her. Everything would be official and precise. Hide had to talk to her.

He had to.

“Well, I’m on my way.”

_“Then step on the gas.”_

Hide hung up, tossing the phone away. “I have work,” he said, rubbing at his face. “I’m sorry.”

Kaneki blinked once, uncomprehendingly, until his expression softened. “You’re late, aren’t you? Super late?”

“Yep,” Hide sighed. “If it were any other day, I’d brush it off and stay here.”

Except today he’d be betraying Kaneki’s trust entirely, meeting the woman who tried to have him killed and probably was the catalyst in the disaster in his life. He’d be questioning her _about_ Kaneki.

He’d also be roping her into his plan. He’d been devising it all last night, before he went looking for Kaneki. He’d be _using_ her.

All behind Kaneki’s back.

“Nope,” Kaneki said, pushing him off the bed. “Go and do your work.”

Hide stood, stretching. “But I wanna be _lazy,_ Kaneki!”

Kaneki didn’t seem impressed. He sat up, crossing his legs under him on the mattress. His hair was a mess and overly fluffy from the wash, his face was blotchy and _sick,_ and the low neckline of his shirt was giving Hide a five-star view into what he’d kept hidden every day: his neck.

 _Not now,_ Hide ordered himself. _Pretend you didn’t see it. Not here, not now._

Kaneki gave him one of his soft smiles. Hide’s resolve was falling fast. Kaneki was sick. Kaneki was so sick and infected in every way, and Hide couldn’t help him.

He had to pretend he didn’t know that for Kaneki’s sake, and that was so fucking hard. He wanted to crawl back into that bed and hold Kaneki for the next ten years until every scar had faded and his face was full and his smiles were constant.

He didn’t live a fairy tale, though.

“Then, I guess, plan for a lazy Wednesday.”

Kaneki’s voice was small and modest, as if he were afraid of so much as suggesting it. Wednesday? What was Wednesday?

_Movie night._

“Fuck yes!” Hide squeezed Kaneki’s face, pecking him on the hair. “Movie night! Just you wait, _Kaneki Ken!_ I will make the best movie night plan ever. I’ll even clean the bowls for some proper food!”

Kaneki’s large, grey eyes stared up at him with what Hide could only call _love._ It made him feel whole. It made Hide feel like maybe there was hope, like maybe not everything was bad. It made him feel _loved._ From Kaneki.

Maybe the way he loved him back.

Then there was the guilt. Twisting his gut and threatening to spew the words out of his throat. _I’m betraying you. I’m betraying your trust. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I hope it’s for the best. I want it to be for the best._

He smothered them all down with a smile. A smile that Kaneki returned.

He was so guilty.

“I leave it to you,” Kaneki smiled at him, pale lips stretched thin in happiness.

_So guilty._

* * *

 

“Mrs Asaoka!” Hide cried as he jogged up. He’d just managed to change into his suit and run over. The other woman was dressed cleanly, her hair combed well and her face well-cleaned and energised. She looked completely different from before.

He stopped before her, panting. “I’m sorry, I’m Rank 3 Investigator Nagachika Hideyoshi, and I was caught up in something and we weren’t able to talk. I understand that you’ve been doing that for a while, but just ten minutes will do. I’ll even shout you coffee on your way home. Is that okay?”

Grins and smiles from Nagachika.

Guilt made him want to throw up.

“Yes, I remember you,” she said politely. “I do need to get home, I’m afraid, but I suppose if it’s on the way, I have some time.”

Good. That was good.

Hide hated himself for being so good at this. _This._ Going behind Kaneki’s back for his _own_ personal gains. That’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it?

 _Being in two minds will kill you, Hide,_ he could all but hear his mother’s voice ringing in his head. _Act first, regret later._

Now that he knew what family she came from, it seemed far more fitting.

“Yes, thank you! It will be. Down the road, on the way to the station is this café that makes good coffee. It will be even less than five minutes. I’m so sorry to be a both.”

Asaoka was not a fool. She smiled politely, adjusting her handbag on her shoulder. She knew to be courteous: she had nothing to hide, after all. The way she was acting, that is.

Not the way Hide knew she was hiding _everything._

Already he could see the café they were heading to: it was nothing more than a four-table room with a barista, but Hide knew it well. He’d gone to it more than once and had been scouting it since he first found out who Kaneki was with the intention of allowing him to lower his guard if they ever went out like a normal couple, but he’d never had the chance.

Now he was betraying Kaneki in that respect here. He’d be taking his aunt there instead.

_Eyes on the job, Nagachika._

“What made you so late? School?”

“You could say that,” Hide laughed. She couldn’t know. “I got caught up in my studies, I guess.”

Asaoka smiled. “You’re young. Your superiors spoke highly of you, and asked me to stay so we could talk, but they let me go. I’m glad I ran into you, so that we can . . . so you can try and find him.”

_Kaneki doesn’t need to be ‘found’._

“Argh, I’m so sorry I’m late. Oh, it’s here. Let’s have a seat.”

The barista looked over for their order. Two cappuccinos. His usual.

It was domestic. Calm. Normal.

“Now, Mrs Asaoka, I apologise for taking up your time, but let us be serious here.” His voice was low to avoid suspicion. Other people were present, the clamour of their chats taking up the air. They could talk.

Hide removed the file he’d prepared from his bag. In one night, he’d dug through the entirety of the database and discovered something rather odd: a small manufacturer of drugs presently unaccounted for. Their goods had been found in the majority of gangs around the city. There was no connection.

Until he’d factored in Kaneki.

He’d worked for her until three years ago. In those years, her grasp was far more diverse. Hide had assumed that Kaneki had been that link. Once Kaneki had gone ‘missing’, they’d lessened.

Traces of her work had been found in the illustrious higher-class criminals, in gangs that sported designer suits and Rolex watches, traded overseas. The people that had once been part of the Restaurant, where they, in their tyrannical strength, had watched anyone who betrayed them get killed violently while they ate.

And now, she was here.

Her face was calm and oozing politeness. She accepted the coffees placed on the table, and Hide saw the slightest shaking of her hands as she did so. That was why he he’d chosen the foamy beverage: he could see it sliding around in the cup despite how nervous she was.

He had her.

“Yes, please. Do go on.” Her voice was admirably smooth.

“I’ve checked this place up and down, and I can tell you no one can hear what we’re going to discuss,” he said, opening the file. “Kaneki Ken is not dead, nor is he under your control. You never reported him missing, because until about two years ago, you had thought he was dead. Right?”

He watched her blink once. As she put down the cup, it was slightly too loud.

He’d broken her façade.

“You know a lot, Investigator,” she said levelly, not meeting his gaze. Her hands shook on the saucer. “How, if I may ask?”

“It takes no genius. Now, I have all the proof that I need to have you and your entire family incriminated for life. But I won’t. Because you’re going to tell me exactly what you did to Kaneki Ken.”

 _For Kaneki,_ he told himself. _For Kaneki._

“You’re direct,” she noted, smile threatening to fall. “But I don’t believe you.”

“Your particular type of drug was found in all kinds of gangs around Tokyo: the eighteenth ward, the twentieth ward, the sixteenth, fourth, and even the first, to name a few. How does one small group have such a large reach?” The facts came out professionally. Powerfully. Hide felt like someone else was speaking.

“A delivery boy. Are you familiar with Madame A of the Restaurant? She’s a private investor, I assume. She buys, she trades. To everyone else, you’re unnamed. That’s a safety net. You’re really just Group Asaoka, aren’t you? ‘Group A’.”

She had turned deadly pale. Beneath her makeup, she looked like a skeleton turning to ash. All of her protections were crumbling.

Hide was too good a manipulator for his own comfort.

“But despite this, I have no intentions of reporting you.” His voice felt like oil in his throat, uncomfortably smooth. Like it was someone else. Someone powerful and _manipulative_ in a way that she, the victim, never would be.

He struggled to find any remorse for her.

“That is, if you tell me what you did to Kaneki Ken.”

Her eyes snapped up, glowing with a desperate grasp for help. She was terrified. She was absolutely terrified. “Kaneki? That boy was the worst delivery boy. He was so _stupid._ So _smug.”_ Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse undertone, desperate to free herself.

 _“_ He was terrible, you see, Investigator? He was so _violent_ with Yuuichi; I had to get rid of him. He had no redemption. My husband hated him. _I_ hated him. He had his father’s face and my sister’s pride. So I sold him. The organ trade came and took him, along with that good-for-nothing setup _Anteiku_ in the 20th ward. They burnt it to the ground and they took him, thank God.”

 _Organ trade._ Hide felt his bones turn to ice. _Organ trade._

“Mrs Asaoka,” he said quietly, “You may lie to me about what you did to him, but under no circumstance do you lie about Kaneki.” His hands were frighteningly calm. He was angry. He was _angry_ with her for painting him this violently. Kaneki was _not_ like that.

“I would never lie,” she said, voice squeaking. “I swear, I would never—”

“After I thoroughly connected the dots,” Hide cut her off, turning to his papers, “I found that your husband is very violent. Your son also has a criminal record for petty crimes. Now, forgive me, but I’m more under the impression that you treated him like trash in your house and made him do all the work. _He_ was your delivery boy, like you said. And why would you have sold him? Because you were afraid he would run.” The connections were all clear: Kaneki tried to escape.

So she had destroyed him.

“Kaneki is meek in nature. He would not have had the violent capacity. He would have taken the abuse you gave him. He would have done the work. Yet even then you tossed him out the door. You were afraid of being sold out. You were afraid of him doing _better_ than you.” He met her eyes, which were hopelessly lost. Everything she had built up was in pieces.

He had broken her.

It was disturbingly satisfying.

“Tell me the truth.”

“He was so quiet.” Her voice was distant, as if she couldn’t believe it. She was staring past him, hands gripping the porcelain cup. “He infuriated me. He would bring home perfect scores and all I could think was _my fucking sister._ He couldn’t do anything right. He was so slow. He was so _useless._ All the time, my clients would ring angrily and scream ‘where the fuck are the goods?’”

She was shaking. Hide didn’t know whom she was afraid of: him, or the truth.

“He’d get back so late. He always was so disgustingly happy. It made me so angry. He was so happy and I was so stressed because my clients were threatening me. I told them to kill him instead, but they never did. Useless. Everyone in this city is so _useless.”_

Angrily, hurriedly, she took a gulp of her still-steaming drink. Her hands were shaking so badly some spilled over the side.

“Then I found the source. _Anteiku._ That shithole. Run by some geezer who was destroying my _empire._ So I contacted someone. I contacted a client who told me they knew people connected to the organ trade. I sold him. I sold him and I paid them to destroy that place. And they did. At last, he had a use and then, a year and a half later, he destroys the Restaurant. He’s a ghost coming to _haunt_ me and I want the CCG to get him. I want you to _kill_ him. Isn’t that enough, Nagachika? That’s it. That’s the story. I told you everything. He’s so terrible, you can’t blame me, yes? I’m safe, yes?”

“You’re the worst.” Hide stared at her dead-on. He hated her so _much,_ but he was so _calm._ So collected. “But you gave me what I asked. Take the file. It’s between us only.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing. “Thank you. You’ll keep it, yes? Our deal?”

“Of course,” Hide said. His smile felt like acid peeling of his skin. His voice was cheerful and Hide felt like coughing up his lungs. How? How was this _possible_ for him to be like this? “Oh, one more thing.”

Asaoka paused, holding her bag. She had nearly fled. Her face was deathly pale, and she’d already slipped the file away. Cunning. “Yes?”

“I’d like you to be an informant,” he said. “For the future. I assume you have a work phone, right? I’ll use that. The CCG works a great deal into crimes related to your business, and you seem adept at managing it.” What was he doing, selling her false confidence so he could use her? What the _fuck_? “Is that acceptable? I promise you I will cover any evidence of you.”

“O-Of course!” she dug through her bag for some paper, but Hide supplied his own phone.

“Just add it as a contact,” he said. “Your name will be fine.”

She must have been so scared of the law that she typed it in flawlessly. “Is that all? Call anytime. If one of the others answers, tell them you’re looking for me specifically.” So she was hiding this from them.

“I will,” he said, smiling. “And you won’t speak of this either, I hope?”

“Not a word,” she said quickly. Hide scanned her face and saw no lies. She was terrified.

Terrified of _him._

“Just one more question,” he said. “It won’t be big. What happened to Kaneki’s family?”

“His father died when he was four, his mother at ten,” she said. “Neither of them were connected to . . . this business.”

Hide nodded, understanding. “Thank you very much. Have a safe trip home!”

The odd sense of calm he’d come under evaporated as soon as she was gone from his sight. Hide drank the rest of his drink in silence, unable to understand what he’d done.

He felt like he’d picked open one of Kaneki’s wounds. One of his scars. One fatal scar that would kill him if it bled, and he’d let it bleed all over the table. Kaneki’s past. He had all but confirmed his darkest suspicions that Kaneki had been abused for his entire time living with them. If his mother died at ten, he would have moved in as a ten-year-old. Six years. He’d been with _them_ for six whole years.

The organ trade. Kaneki had been sent to the organ trade. He’d had his organs illegally harvested and sold off. How many? When? Where?

How had he come back?

That same thread, stained black and red with the gruesome thought was still there. Being shot in the head. Getting up. Organ trades. Labs. Scars.

_Genetic therapy._

It should be impossible. It probably was. It lacked any proof and seemed in _human._ Hide prayed it was poor judgement. He prayed that he was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t second-guess his initial judgement, but _this_ was too much.

He finished his coffee and put it down. He didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t. It shouldn’t be.

But every piece of evidence he had was pointing in that direction.

Kaneki’s neck.

Just thinking of it made Hide’s gut sink.

Kaneki had hid his throat every day, because it was covered in the scars of a thousand extra smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow Hide u okay there  
> lol no  
>  ~~also anyone else realise ive been waiting to use the second half of that hell line for ages why am i like this~~
> 
> I hope you all liked it! As usual, thank you to everyone that reads this! I'm always so flattered by the amazing responses i get to these chapters, and I hope I can write a story that keeps that enjoyment going ^^ Really, thank you guys!


	39. High You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i love backstory eps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so fkn short im sorry  
> its also late  
> still sorry  
> pls enjoy it tho thank you

_Name: Suzuya Juuzou (previously “Rei”)._

_Gender: preference; M_

_Date of Birth: June 8_

_Age: 20_

_Height: 160cm_

_Weight: 48kg_

_Blood Type: AB_

_History: seized after collapsed Restaurant raid. Had previous, healed injury of missing limb. Previous Scrapper of Big Madame._

_Displays mental instability with violent tendencies. Indicated desire to become Investigator after one month of intensive care. Was taken on by Special Class Shinohara for training after being deemed unfit for the program. Assigned to 20 th ward branch after success in placating the 10th ward with the Special Class._

It never ceased to amaze Hide how condensed and cold a description of someone could be in file form. He hoped it wasn’t an invasion of privacy, but until then Suzuya had never been what Hide would call ‘private’. He just wanted to know a few things: how Suzuya had come into the CCG, why he was on a specialist course, and why he was missing one leg.

Or maybe that was an invasion of privacy. Oops.

“Collapsed Restaurant Raid” was a reference to the case that occurred last year in spring. A sole culprit was responsible for killing forty-two of society’s elite gang members. Most of them had ties overseas to countries such as China and Thailand for the import and export of drugs. A sole culprit.

‘Scrappers’ were sent in to kill whomever they wanted to see dead for entertainment. Suzuya had been one of them forced to kill people, from what Hide could guess, it may have been against his will until it eventually turned into some sort of task to gain a positive response from his keeper from: Big Madame.

One of the key players still at large.

None of _that_ was Hide’s business.

The raid itself had failed. Originally it was being planned, until a week before the operation, the CCG was called in to find the members slaughtered in their seats. Their injuries included slit throats and violent internal trauma caused by blunt instruments. A few included the ‘Binge Eater move’—cutting (biting) out someone’s tongue and shoving it into their severed necks.

The final one was what the autopsy reports had chalked up to as ‘being impaled by a bare hand’.

Hide didn’t need to think too long to convince himself Kaneki had done it.

Why? Reading through the case file, written a while ago, he saw it was in April _last year._

Hide had narrowed Kaneki’s ‘dark period’ that he disappeared off the radar for to eighteen months. A year and a half. This meant that it occurred during his first activities. It was too quick. It was too violent. In September the same year, Hide had met him for the first time, and hadn’t picked up on even a trace of that same brutality.

Hide knew so very little.

Until that time, Kaneki had no established connections at all with the higher members. It was, essentially, his dramatic entrance into the world of bloodshed. What would do that? Why would he suddenly do something so large and dramatic when he would have been better off lying low?

Because he hadn’t planned, Hide realised. He hadn’t planned it at all.

He had been requested.

By who? Who would have requested Kaneki of such a thing?

Hide continued reading through the file, and found the last line that sold him:

_Suspected to be a connection to the fall of the Tsukiyama family a month prior. The operation detained all servants save for the director and family head, Tsukiyama Mirumo, and his son, who is unnamed._

Tsukiyama Shuu, Hide realised. Tsukiyama—fucking—Shuu.

Holy shit.

Hide gave a careful glance around the office, making sure he’d be left alone. Suzuya wasn’t in, Akira looked busy, Seidou was actually working, and Amon was, well, Amon. No one knew where he was.

He was safe to look further.

The Tsukiyama operation, Hide read, involved the siege of the estate after their ties to the underworld were discovered. They had trades deep across China and India, exploiting the tourism industry in countries such as Nepal and expanding their reign around the world. The CCG went to arrest them and was met with resistance.

The leader of the operation, Washuu Matsuri, responded with equal violence.

Initially, the director, Tsukiyama Mirumo, was arrested and detained. After they went after the heir, his son, he escaped. The son was never captured and remains unknown. On the site there were forty-five servants and suspected familial connections that were ruthlessly cut down purely for raising firearms against CCG troops.

If Hide had to guess, Tsukiyama Shuu would have wanted revenge.

_“The initial tip-off to the Tsukiyama was given by an informant.”_

A member of the Restaurant. The Gourmets. They sacrificed each other for the top. According to future tabs, Tsukiyama fell off the maps but trade routes were just as common for illicit drugs and other goods and services. Someone else had taken their paths and made a killing off it.

This city was rotten.

The operation was in late January. Three months before the Restaurant. Kaneki would have been active by that time. What was he doing?

Hide read through the report further, until they discussed possible culprits of Mirumo’s escape. Naturally, Kaneki was on the list, as well as the sketch of ‘Black Rabbit’ that Hide could now recognise as Ayato, alongside the unidentifiable ‘Rabbit’: Touka. Was that even logical?

Based on his interactions in their apartment, Ayato and Touka had been apart. There was something different about each of them. Ayato, or ‘Black Rabbit’ had ties to Aogiri. Something ‘Rabbit’ did not have. They must have been separated. Because Kaneki, the third member of their household, was in the dark six months of weird underactivity, he probably hadn’t had much interaction with Touka either at that time.

So who had saved him?

The final member on the suspect list was someone Hide hadn’t come across before. Without any image, just like Touka, except their name was ‘Yotsume’.

He was about to investigate further when Amon walked into the room, yelling, “Hide! You have an assignment!”

* * *

 

“Oh, it’s you, Kaneki!” Uta waved him towards the bar. Beside him, Touka watched on, hardly hiding her concern. The whiplash between the Hide Effect and the Kaneki Self-Torment would never be healthy. But she couldn’t say a word. Uta was a slippery snitch when it came to anything juicy, and if he knew that she was worried, then shit would hit the _fan._

Kaneki headed over towards him. He’d dressed for work like he always had. He had the same expression he always had. If Touka didn’t know how the day had actually progressed, she’d think that he was fine.

Maybe he was actually fine today, for a change.

He wouldn’t be by the time he got home, though.

Biting her tongue, she headed to the back room to dump her bag. She was working the bar shift tonight, which meant a long time dealing with violent, ‘gangster’ scumbags. Ugh. Again.

How many times would women, young and old, drape themselves over the bar, asking for ‘the Kaneki’ tonight? How many old men? God, Kaneki managed to fuck his life over in a very short time. Even if he wasn’t an information broker anymore, people were always ready to exchange their shit with him. God, get a life. What losers.

“Touka, darling, you look so stressed!” Itori was zipping up the back of her dress, ready for a night’s worth of floating and chatting. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“It’s Saturday,” she grumbled. “The Kaneki enthusiasts always show up on Saturday nights, the fuckers.”

Itori laughed heartily, letting down her hair. “Of course they would! It’s their day off tomorrow.”

“But Kaneki doesn’t _do_ that shit anymore! Don’t they get the hint? That’s so fucking sick.” She threw down her bag, pulling out her makeup pouch and staring at her tired reflection. “Honestly. And why come _here_?”

“Where else would they go, Touka?” Itori said, gently. It was the same gentleness of a hostess. Polite, falsely empathetic, and distant. Even if Touka respected Itori’s strength, there was always something different about her, just like Uta. There would be, of course, everyone there was an information broker and loved to know every whisper, but Touka felt like she was being _played._

“A fucking brothel, maybe, like a normal sicko.” Touka pounded her face harshly with foundation. “Let me serve my drinks in peace, dammit.”

Itori gave her a strong clap on the back, smiling widely. Her lips were blood red. “You’ll be fine. You _are_ our finest Ukkaku, Touka. You’re not just a barmaid.”

“Like hell,” Touka agreed angrily, waiting for Itori to leave the room before she resumed powdering her face like a madwoman.

* * *

 

_Truth be told, Touka didn’t know about a lot of the shit Kaneki had done._

_She’d met him during those first six months, where she would only describe him as ‘off the rails’. He was making deals with all kinds of devils and diving deeper and deeper into the shadowy mess of Tokyo. She’d been hearing about him for a month before he first came to the bar._

_She’d be lying if she said she had expected something different. Maybe the shaggy-haired, dark-eyed, violent protagonist-type guy with a trademark scar on his face or something. Something that so profoundly delinquent and naïve._

_She hadn’t expected a small, white-haired boy to show up in a black turtleneck, pale enough to look like he’d just crawled out of the artic ocean, wearing a belt of knives and gun at his waist._

_He was not what she had expected._

_His hair was neat and combed. His face was washed. His clothes were clean. He carried no stench of blood or misery, just the coldness of his very existence. He was like a ghost: driven mad with hunger for vengeance until it hollowed him out._

_Until he was empty._

_That was the Kaneki she had met, and it drove her mad._

_It seemed every passing second of his day was dedicated to destroying himself and everyone around him. No one knew him well enough or was prepared enough to get close enough to him to ask. He worked as an information broker, and in Touka’s eyes, that was pretty fucking low._

_Was he so content with that? What kind of shitty brain did he have? Why was he so simple and so . . ._

_Different?_

_That’s what he was, Touka realised. He’d come to the bar, destroy his life, sell away his body just for a scrap of information for the sake of killing a single man. How would she respect that? How on earth could she respect a man who had no respect for himself?_

_The first time she realised he wouldn’t die was when he walked through the door, sopping wet, and using his bare hands to pry out a bullet from his skull._

_He could have done so much with that. He could have seen it as a gift. He could have tried to help others with it, rather than destroy it over and over again for his own personal gain._

_She could have taught him what it was like to fucking die, she was so angry at him._

_“Be nicer, Touka,” Itori would hum as she angrily cleaned glasses. “He’s learning his own way. Maybe that’s wrong. But that’s what he’s chosen.”_

_“Then he chose wrong,” she snapped back, not looking at the older woman. “What a selfish asshole.”_

_He could have saved people. He could have saved so many people._

_He could have saved her brother._

_Fuck him._

* * *

 

Touka should have known what would happen when Furuta walked in.

She’d never met him before, and she was lucky for that. She had heard about him and she knew his face. He was a slippery shit and his appearance only meant that serious crap was about to go down.

She should have guessed.

“Good evening,” he drawled. Touka could have punched him in that smug mouth. “I’m looking for Kaneki.”

“He’s busy,” she replied curtly. God, she wanted to punch him. He radiated smugness and pride in a way that rubbed the wrong way against every grain in her body.

“ _Shame!”_ Furuta cried, slumping forward onto the bar. “I’m on the behalf of someone else.”

There were other customers. Touka turned away to serve them, but Furuta grabbed her wrist.

 _“Don’t touch me, motherfucker,”_ she hissed. Be professional, be professional, be professional. She clenched her fist, ready to strike, only barely holding it still. She glared him down, infuriated by the smile on his face. The _nerve_ of this guy!

“My apologies,” he let go, sitting back. His hands were gloved. “But I have some more questions, so—“

“I’m working a job, and you’re holding up customers. Make it quick.”

“When will Kaneki be back?”

“I’m a barmaid, not the manager.”

“Then, can you get the manager?”

“I can.” She crossed her arms hotly, glaring at him. “Why?”

“I have a client that would like to speak to him,” Furuta smiled, apparently innocent. “Could you go and get them, please?”

“She’ll be here in a few,” Touka growled. “Mind your business until she comes.”

“Thank you,” Furuta smiled. “Then, I’ll go and get my client.”

Touka was too happy for him to leave. She served as many people as she could, smiling as best she could despite wanting to smash all the glasses on the bench. It was all smiles, all receiving cash and supplying change. It was a job. It was methodical. It was relaxing.

Furuta coming back wasn’t even what ruined her night.

Being accompanied by Nagachika Hideyoshi did her in, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!


	40. Numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i know i said pls be patient but im a fkn liar so i wrote the next chapter for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE ENJOY  
> not proofread  
> its late  
> i didnt do my work  
> i regret  
> but i like how it turned out so yeah have fun

Hide knew the day would come. It was the same oppressive prophecy as final exams at the beginning of the year; they would arrive with absolute certainty, but they felt a world away until you sat yourself down in the chair and realised that it would determine your future.

But Hide had never really cared about school that much.

Sitting opposite the desk of Washuu Matsuri, though, he felt like one slip-up here would destroy him, and that he really should have used every passing second to prepare for this.

Because shit, he had so much to hide.

“Hideysohi,” Matsuri greeted him, his tone lacking any warmth. “Please, take a seat. I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Washuu Matsuri. Your cousin.”

_Your cousin._

“Nice to meet you,” Hide replied, unable to muster any of his usual chirpiness. The air in the office was stale and cold, smelling of the metal in the air pipes. The tension was stifling, and he felt like he had to be someone else.

So he acted like it.

There was no ‘just Hide will do’, or ‘hey cus’. At that time, he was someone else. Someone who had questioned a woman, someone who had drawn from her every shred of information she had by threatening her with the truth. Someone who could probably blend in with the Washuu.

Someone terrifying.

“Nice to meet you, too, Matsuri,” he said, sitting down. His eyes felt like they were burning from maintaining eye contact. He had to appear like he had nothing to hide. He had to appear like he was on equal footing.

A mountain of a task.

The older man clasped his hands on the desk. “You seem more professional than I’d heard,” he noted, unsmiling. It could have been a joke. It could have listed the tension Hide felt sinking to his gut and strangling him.

It wasn’t. It was a statement. A judgement.

Fuck.

“I get that a lot.” _No he didn’t._

“Good,” said Matsuri. “Because we read the report your superiors submitted a few months back where you entered a nightclub ‘undercover’.” Matsuri used the word carefully, like he hardly believed it and it felt false and fake on his tongue. It was, but still. “You brought back a lot of information that proved to be very useful. This time, you’ll be working with Squad 7.”

_Squad 7, those who patrolled the 24 th ward. The most dangerous ward in Tokyo._

Breathing felt like stabbing his neck through.

“I’m glad it helped,” Hide said. His voice felt flat and dead. “What kind of work will I be doing?”

He already knew the answer.

“Some more undercover work,” Matsuri said, finally smiling. It was a cruel, taunting smile, like the thought of putting Hide in danger made him pleased. He couldn’t wait for Hide to fuck up, and Hide was sure everyone knew it. “To the bar we believe is the headquarters of the gang “Ghoul Land Group”, or “GLG” for short, in the 24th ward.”

_Kaneki works there._

“I see,” Hide said. God, he sounded so calm, what the fuck? “Can I get any more details, or are you simply proposing the plan to me?”

“It is not a proposition, it’s an order.” Matsuri’s tone was absolute. “I trust there will be no problems. A success here would give you a lot of credit and probably promote you to Rank 2 very quickly.”

Hide didn’t care about promotion at all.

“There are no problems,” Hide confirmed. “Is there a briefing?”

“Of course.” Maybe Matsuri was this flat and dead with all his subordinates, Hide reasoned, because something this intrinsic couldn’t be just for Hide. “In a moment. You got here before your partner for the operation. It will be tonight.”

“That’s very short notice.”

“We only found out last night,” Matsuri didn’t sound apologetic. “We decided to act on it as fast as possible, as the annual Cleanup operation is in planning, and we need all the information we can get. You understand that we’ve been chasing this group for the last decade, and we have no reason to wait.”

“Annual Cleanup” was the confrontation the CCG always seemed to have during gang fights. Hide had read about it, and it never seemed to get appealing. It was never released to the public, however, because something so violent would no doubt cause mass complaints and could have the company shut down. Whistleblowers didn’t exist, because only the higher-ranked Investigators were allowed to participate: the Officers.

Hide swallowed hard.

“I see,” he replied dully. “So, when will my ‘partner’ be arriving?”

“Right now,” answered a voice from the door. Hide turned to face him, and saw a tall, dark-haired man closing it behind him. He was tall, pale and very thin-framed. His face was not unattractive, but there was something dangerous about him.

_Washuu._

“Furuta,” Matsuri announced sourly. “This is Nagachika.”

“Hmm, _Hideyoshi,_ you mean,” Furuta’s voice had a sing-song lilt, but it wasn’t nearly as friendly as Suzuya’s. It was an amused voice, like he was studying an animal in a zoo. That’s what Hide was, after all.

“Nice to meet you.” God, Hide was so dull. “It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Furuta sat down, still smiling thinly at him. Something was dangerously _off_ about him in a way not even the Washuus alarmed him. “Nimura Furuta. Nice to meet you.”

“He’ll be joining you,” Matsuri ended their conversation. “He is our informant that will get you in. He’ll organise a discussion with the manager. Half of the people in there are either hit men or information brokers, so be on guard. You want to find out as much as you can about the group without giving anything about yourself away.”

“If they’re information brokers,” Hide pointed out, “they’ll want an exchange of information.”

“Precisely,” Furuta grinned. “That’s why we’ll be exchanging the information about a detained criminal in exchange for one of theirs.”

“And that is?”

“Donato,” Matsuri nodded. “He’s incarcerated at Cochlea, but he was a key player in the gang scene as he posed as a priest. You’ll use his file to get every drop of information you can about Kaneki Ken.”

Hide’s façade almost shattered when Matsuri said his name.

But it didn’t.

And that was the scariest thing so far.

“How will I do that?”

“The manager will know the most,” Furuta told him, leaning on the desk as Matsuri shot him a glare from behind his glasses. Clearly, they didn’t get along. “But once a month, especially after a big hit, there’s a night where Kaneki stays in the bar and doesn’t go around delivering drugs. Our information tells us that’s tonight. _You_ are going to meet him.”

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit_

“Okay,” Hide folded his hands in his lap. “And then what? What do you want to know?”

“As much as you can get,” Matsuri said. “Where he’s from, where’s he’s going. Record everything you see him do. Question him about his position. Question him about his responsibilities. Watch his interactions. If possible, weasel information out of him about the gang scene.”

“There’s the possibility he may not know much,” Hide pointed out. Internally, he was panicking. God, they wanted him to question _Kaneki_ today of _all_ days, and he already knew most of the shit, and at this rate Kaneki would be captured and it would all be Hide’s fault. Shit. Shit.

“Wouldn’t the manager provide better intel?”

“They might,” Matsuri nodded, “but Kaneki is a key player. If no one else, we want him in jail.”

They want something from him.

Hide felt like he could feel the indicidual synapses in his brain joining and making the conclusion.

_“He’s not a carrier, Yoko.”_

_Genetic therapy._

Oh, fuck.

This could not be happening. This could _not_ be happening. Everything was going to shit and they wanted Kaneki for something Hide had suspected him of having but now the proof was growing and shit, what would he do? He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this at all and shit was going down and he was _so fucking calm._

“Why don’t I just arrest him? Why don’t I lead him out on a ploy and get him arrested outside?”

_Why the fuck was he suggesting this?!_

Oh, right. He already knew the answer.

“No, we have to let your character stew,” Matsuri seemed clean about that. “Your position as an undercover agent could prove useful, and we don’t want to destroy that just yet. Leading Kaneki to a trap would be counterproductive and believe me, that gang isn’t successful for nothing. They would remember your face and capture you instead. Not even Washuu blood will protect you.”

“Then how do you plan on catching him?”

“We believe,” Furuta said, icy cool, “that he has a civilian identity instead. That’s mainly what you’re being sent in to discover.”

_Sasaki Haise. They’re looking for Sasaki Haise. They know. They must know, they must know, they must know—_

“The operation begins at 22:00,” Matsuri said. “Go to the 24th branch headquarters with Furuta. They’ll be directing you further.”

Hide nodded very calmly. “I understand.”

“Dismissed.”

He stood very calmly.

He walked out the door very calmly.

He made it back to Amon very, very calmly.

He was very calm.

A dead calm.

Everything was going to fuck up.

* * *

 

Touka knew it was Hide. She knew his face, she knew his voice, she knew it was _him._

But he was acting different.

There was no easy smile, there was none of that bright personality. She watched subtly as she served customers, but as he sat, talking to Itori and holding what looked like equal ground, she could help but feel something mixed between anger, betrayal, and _fear._

Anger, because what the fuck? Was his act with Kaneki a fake? Was this all a giant game to him? Whose side was he on: CCG, or Kaneki’s? What the hell, Hide?

Betrayal, because she couldn’t help but think that he was choosing the CCG over them.

And finally, fear. She watched him exchange an equal conversation about Itori. He was offering information in exchange for information with the finesse of an experienced broker. Itori revealed nothing extra. Hide revealed nothing extra.

Over the clamour of the bar she couldn’t hear what they were saying, and that made her uncomfortable. Hide had an envelope in his hands, and was very professionally talking to her, while Itori replied with her usual haughtiness and ease. Like she was winning.

But judging by the way she hadn’t ‘lovingly’ draped herself over the other boy, he was holding his own. She couldn’t use him.

God, Kaneki should learn from him.

Furuta was the only one close to her, and he was drinking the wine he’d ordered with a thoroughly amused expression on his face as his gaze flicked between her and Hide. She met his gaze with a glare every time, but they were in different positions, and Furuta had the advantage.

“No violence inside, Touka,” Itori had told her softly as she went off to talk with Hide. He was dressed inconspicuously, Touka noticed. Dark colours. Colours that would fit in with someone going to a gang’s bar. Colours that wouldn’t attract attention.

If Furuta had gotten him in, a member of the CCG, then clearly Furuta also had to work for the CCG.

The smugness of his presence told her that he knew that she knew. He also knew that if she revealed to Itori that fact, she’d reveal how she knew Hide.

Touka wasn’t that stupid.

 _Please, Kaneki, don’t come back yet,_ she internally prayed. Bar night. His one night in a month, and Hide showed up now. The morning felt like a dream, now. Last night was a dream, as well. Was this reality? Hide double-crossing them? Had Hide been an agent from the start? What the fuck?

Which Hide was the real one? The one she talked to last night, or the Hide sitting here?

Had she underestimated him? Had he been an agent from the _very_ beginning? Had he roomed with Nishio because the CCG knew he had ties to the gang world? Did they predict this path? Holy shit, they could know everything already. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. If Kaneki showed up now, then everything would go to shit and she knew it.

Normally, she would wait for Kaneki to come back, but for the love of god, don’t come back now. It didn’t matter how many drugs he had to do. It didn’t matter what clients he was seeing, or what he was being requested. It didn’t matter. The pain up there couldn’t even match the Hell waiting for him down here.

Kaneki seemed to walk from one hell to another. Fuck.

“Touka? I’ve been waiting for my drink for ten minutes now, and—”

“Wait longer, dumbass!” she snapped. “I’m busy! What did you even order?”

* * *

 

_She had learned very quickly what had driven Kaneki to act like he did._

_“Jason,” Uta told her. She was sitting around before the opening hours, with Yomo to her right and her homework in front of her. Uta was already smoking, trying to ignore the sting of his newest tattoo. “Apparently he was done in by that Kaneki kid. Crazy, huh?”_

_“He’s dead,” Yomo repeated. “Good.”_

_“Yeah, but that tiny-ass kid killed him!” Uta was grinning, like the news was amazing. “I even heard that he was cannibalised. Dude, imagine that kid killing and eating the guy. I haven’t heard a story like that in ages.”_

_“Eaten?” Touka spoke up suddenly. “That’s messed-up, Uta.”_

_“No, but think about it,” Uta lowered his glasses to smile at her. “Why would he_ eat _someone? Do you think he could have been starved? Dude, what if he came from the same place as Suzuya? I wonder what’s going on up there.”_

_Touka didn’t really know who Suzuya was, but the name wasn’t uncommon. What Uta was suggesting was far worse. In what environment could someone become mad enough to eat the man they had just killed?_

_“Also, did you hear the news?”_

_“What news?”_

_“The CCG found out the Tsukiyamas. They’re raiding them tonight.” Uta took a drag of his cigarette so casually, Touka thought that they must have known. Tsukiyama Shuu was a creep of a guy, and quite frankly, she didn’t care if they lost their fortune._

_She never imagined that no one had told them, though. She never imagined that nearly everyone would die._

_She had always imagined that the CCG would be very capable of something like that, though._

_“Kaneki’s probably been through hell,” Yomo said with his quiet certainty. “Don’t investigate that.”_

_“What? You protective already?” Uta gave him a clap on the shoulder. “You’re so kind, Renji! I’m curious about him, though. I don’t think he understands how valuable information is, yet. But he’ll learn.”_

_“What makes you so sure, Uta?” Itori had a knack for walking in on conversations like she owned them. “He seems pretty novice to me.”_

_“But he’s successful,” Uta pointed out. “And he’s willing to get destroyed for what he wants.”_

_“If you say so,” Itori shrugged. “I can’t wait to ask him about it, our budding broker.”_

_“What’s he even doing?” In retrospect, Touka should have kept her mouth shut. She shouldn’t have shown interest. It never went well._

_“Anything and everything,” Itori smiled at her, pushing in some chairs. “From killing to drugs to, well, y’know. You’re too young for that grown-up stuff.”_

_“Itori.” God, she had been so proud back then. She hadn’t even imagined that she’d regret knowing something. Itori had known, though. Itori always knew how it went._

_“Well, there’s no better way of getting into Tokyo’s private circles than being the group whore.”_

_“A cannibal_ and _a player? What a future.”_

_Thank God Kaneki stopped being a broker, Touka thought later._

* * *

 

Kaneki picked that moment to come back.

He walked down the back stairs and opened the door with his usualness. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He had that usual expression on his face and was followed by a single woman who Touka assumed had asked him to kill her ex again. _Again._

Honestly.

He walked her to the door, as polite as he could be. Then he shut it after her. When he turned back, her eyes were the ones he met first, and he headed over. Normal. Normal. Normal.

He almost made it when Furuta called out.

“Kaneki! Nice to see you again!”

Touka knew that Kaneki had potential to be exceptionally violent. He didn’t earn a reputation for nothing. That being said, he’d always been very calm indoors and instructed the fight away before he actually killed someone.

Not tonight.

His look turned to a death glare and he reached for his gun with one hand and Furuta’s shirt with the other, his expression screaming murder. “ _Furuta—!”_

Uta was there in a second, a commanding hand on Kaneki’s shoulder. “No violence inside, remember?”

“Make an exception,” Kaneki growled, yanking Furuta down. “The death won’t be violent.”

The other man accepted it with a _smile_ of all things, ready to take the hit.

Because he knew.

“Oh, Kaneki!” Itori’s voice pierced the hum of conversation. Touka could only watch, numbed to her bones, as Uta plucked the gun out of his hand. Kaneki, knowing his place apparently, broke contact and glared towards Itori instead.

Touka could pinpoint the exact second his demeanour shattered. If he had been holding the gun, he would have dropped it. He would have dropped everything, because the split second of horror that overtook him was enough to make him bone-white.

He recovered quickly. Touka hoped it was something only she, someone who lived with him, would notice.

He threw Furuta to the ground and pressed a foot on his chest. “ _I’ll kill you.”_

“That’s enough, your boss has called you.” Uta gave Kaneki a head pat. “He’s a customer. Don’t get personal, hit man.”

The familiar name seemed to remind Kaneki where he stood, because after a beat he released Furuta.

Was he actually . . . ? Touka’s heart thudded in her chest. This wouldn’t go well. This wouldn’t go well. Things had _finally_ started looking bright and _this_ happens? Shit, shit, shit.

She couldn’t help him.

Uta sat Furuta back down and placed himself next to the taller man, eyeing Touka.

She didn’t know what he was trying to say, for once.

* * *

 

Hide regretted a lot of things.

Seeing Kaneki murderous, if he was honest, wasn’t really one of them.

Seeing that same gaze directed at him was probably one, though.

Oh, boy. He’d fucked up _bad._

Itori, the manager, looped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in close. It was an obvious display of affection and _ownership._ She smiled at him, her lips bright red. “This is Kaneki. You can ask him directly now, or would you like something more private?”

Hide forced himself to stay calm. It was getting disturbingly easier as the day progressed, despite how sick he felt with himself.

This was Kaneki. This was _Kaneki._

“I think a private room will be good,” he told her, smiling ever so slightly. “Thank you for your help, Miss Itori.”

“Anytime, _Hide.”_ Hide couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew absolutely everything that was going on. Kaneki had peeled himself away from her and was standing.

“I guess I have some spare time,” he said. “I have a job later, Itori. You should have told me.”

His tone was icy cold, but Itori responded with a smile. This was how he was, Hide reminded himself, he _was_ Kaneki Ken. Even if Hide knew how he felt, how he acted around him, even if he knew that, things shaped him to be different. He had an image to hold. He had someone to be.

And Hide was forcing him to act that way.

“Oh, you don’t have _that_ much,” Itori pat his arm. “Off you go.”

Kaneki stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. He met Hide’s gaze, and Hide saw the first flash of something else: distress.

“Actually, I think our work is done,” Hide broke in. “It’s—”

“Nonsense!” Itori gave his shoulder a pat. “Off you go!”

“Let’s go,” he commanded, heading towards the door he’d come out of a second go.

He’d already lost, hadn’t he?

* * *

 

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Kaneki lost his composure.

He was rigid for a long moment, pressing both hands to his mouth. Hide watched him take three very long breaths before he turned towards him, eyes wide and hands shaking.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Kaneki hissed in an undertone. He shrugged off his jacket, leaving only the black turtleneck below it on. He walked forwards, as if he was afraid of Hide.

Oh, God, Hide realised. That’s exactly what he was.

_“Kaneki trusts too easily.”_

“H-hey,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. He felt like he was speaking while still holding his breath. Any second, he could breathe too loudly and they’d be found out. Shit. _Shit._

He gave a grin. “I low-key fucked up.”

“What the hell, Hide?” Kaneki had begun to pace back and forth now, his steps incredibly quiet despite the panic Hide was sure was going on inside that snowy white head of his. “How can you ‘low-key fuck up’ this bad?”

“Maybe it was high-key.”

_“Hide.”_

“I’m sorry, Kaneki. Hey, dude, calm down.” He reached out and took one of Kaneki’s arms, stopping him from his pacing. The smaller looked up at him, and Hide realised that ‘panic’ did not describe it. Kaneki was terrified.

“Calm down, yeah?”

“I can’t calm down!” Kaneki yelled in an undertone. “Do you understand how dangerous this place is? You were talking to _Itori,_ oh fuck—”

“Kaneki.” Hide took Kaneki’s face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. God, Hide felt so guilty. In the space of a single day he’d fucked up so much. He hated himself for looking for the organ trade in Kaneki’s eyes, for looking for the boy who had lost his parents so young, for the boy who had killed so many people. He hated looking for every shred of information Itori had told him. He hated it.

“Right now, I’m working for the CCG,” he told him. “They . . . want to find out about the bar as the base.” _They want to find out about you. They want to use you._ “They sent me in because you told me too many things last time we did the whole undercover gig.”

“But with _Furuta?”_ Hide saw the anger start in Kaneki’s eyes as soon as he said the name. What the fuck had happened between them in the past? “Why Furuta?”

“He works for the CCG as the informant.” _He’s a Washuu. I’m related to him._

“Kill him when you get the chance,” Kaneki muttered. “He’s bad news.”

“Killing people isn’t the best form of communication,” Hide pinched at his cheeks. “So calm down.”

“You’re in the same building as the most dangerous people in Tokyo,” Kaneki reminded him. “They’ll kill you because your hair is bad.”

“It’s not _that_ bad.”

“Maybe not to me.”

“You like my hair?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

Hide grinned, unable to squash it down. He felt like he’d been shoved into a mould for the whole day, and finally he was stretching his limbs again. Like he could move. This was _Kaneki._

Then he remembered how much danger Kaneki was in.

 _They’re onto you,_ he wanted to tell Kaneki. _They could find you. They could even know about Sasaki Haise._

He couldn’t say it.

“You’re in danger here,” Kaneki told him, voice shaking. Throughout the entire time, their voices had been so low, as if they were about to be heard. “These people here will destroy you for their own gain, Hide. I have enemies here who couldn’t wait to get you for revenge against me.”

“Kaneki, are you bullying people?”

“Be serious!”

“As your responsible boyfriend, I have to go and apologise to their parents now,” Hide nodded to himself, still holding Kaneki’s face. “And the school. Gotta say sorry, kiddo.”

“Why are you like this?” Kaneki almost looked defeated, if not for the worry that kept him going. “If you leave now, they probably won’t realise.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Hide—no—can you please listen to me?” Kaneki was growing more frustrated as Hide kept ignoring his pleas. God, maybe he was mean like that. “Don’t trust Furuta, just head out to where the CCG is. They’re safe. Go over there and just do _not_ come back.”

Hide had already agreed to three more operations.

“Okay?”

“About that, like, I actually—”

“Please don’t tell me you agreed to multiple.”

He wondered if Kaneki could feel the cold sweat dripping down his back. Okay, he’d high-key fucked up. Definitely fucked up. “See, Kaneki, the thing is, um . . . yeah.”

“Are you _crazy?”_ Kaneki gripped at his arms, shaking him as if he could rattle sense into his brain. “Do you know how _dangerous_ that is? Okay, fine. I’ll go hand myself into the CCG with you to stop you coming. Let’s go. Right now.”

“Whoa there, Delilah.” Hide blocked his path to the door. “Let’s be rational here.”

“I’m completely rational.”

“ _Kaneki_.”

“Stop coming here.” Kaneki stared at the ground. “Please.”

“Excuse you.” Hide hooked a finger under his chin, drawing his face back up. “I’m a big boy and can take care of myself, thank you very much. Not to mention, my boyfriend is actually, like, super strong. I’m sure he’d fight off any bad guys.”

“What a guy,” Kaneki said dryly. “I’m sure he sleeps well at night knowing you’re not going into dangerous bars. Maybe you should, like, do him a favour.”

“But he really likes action films, you see.” When had their faces gotten so close? “I’m sure he really likes damsels in distress.”

“Are you seriously trying to kiss me while I’m telling you your life is in danger?” Even if he was unimpressed with Hide, Kaneki’s voice was low and hoarse. “Really, Hide?”

“Do you not want to?”

“If I kiss you, will you leave?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, not doing it.” Kaneki pushed him away. “Bye.”

“ _Please_?” Hide whined, trying to appeal. “Okay, okay, I’ll go!”

Where would he go? He’d return to the officers, deliver his findings—none of which were positive at all—and then be forced to come back again. The plan had been to ‘gain Kaneki’s trust’ and lead him to a trap over time. But Hide had never intended on that. He’d never even considered it. He just hadn’t figured out a way out yet.

Surely, now was a safe time to call it a day?

Was he literally throwing away the entire time for a _single kiss?_ God, wasn’t he professional? Wasn’t he, like, composed? Smart? Rational?

“Will you actually?” Kaneki didn’t seem convinced just yet. Hide remembered studying that same face as they awoke that morning, the way he had seemed so much younger, the way he had seemed far more fragile.

Kaneki was not made of ice or glass, Hide reminded himself. Kaneki was made of stone and iron.

He’d figure out a way.

“Yes,” he promised. “Well, if it’s good enough.”

Kaneki sighed, “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get with you, isn’t it?”

“You know you love me,” Hide grinned. Finally, he earned a tiny smile from the other.

“Come here,” Kaneki muttered, reaching up to join lips.

It was like a blast of fresh hair, free of the city’s weight. There was cigarette smoke, no towering buildings, no feeling of eyes on his neck. It was the warmth of arms wrapping around his neck and the safety of holding Kaneki in his hands, of feeling his breath against his skin and hearing those tiny, breathy gasps between kisses and knowing that he was _okay._ Things were okay.

When he kissed Kaneki, he could believe that.

“Done.” Kaneki released him suddenly, reaching for the door. “Okay, bye. Don’t come again.”

* * *

 

Bonus: ~~what am i doing with my life ey~~

“Kaneki . . . how do I hide a boner?”

“Blue balls it, Hide," he said, throwing the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf is even with that end   
> i couldnt even help myself with that bonus part 
> 
> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR READING I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AND THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH ALL THE SHIT I PUT YOU THROUGH
> 
> i love you all see you again soon


	41. Fossa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this story has no chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning i wrote the C-word in this for you young'uns
> 
> Have fun

Waking up beside Kaneki would never get old. Even if it was with his head in his textbook while Kaneki sat beside him, curled up on himself and reading a book, oblivious to Hide’s laziness. The pile of work Hide had to do before he sat his exams in the attempt to not fail them was growing as fast as Kaneki’s finished books.

“I’m going to fail,” he murmured, completely accepting his demise. “There’s no hope.”

“Maybe you should stop sleeping,” Kaneki pointed out, turning the page. Hide half expected him to say something else, but in an instant the white-haired dork was already trapped in the next page.

No matter how hard Hide pouted, Kaneki was completely ignoring him.

This gave him a lot of time to study his face.

Hidden behind the bold, large frames of his glasses, it looked hopelessly normal. Now that Hide knew the real extent of the skin of his neck, he tried to see through the layers of concealer that Touka put there. He couldn’t. Instead, he tried to reimagine them there. Who had done it? Had Kaneki? They weren’t _small_ scars. They were a mess of straight, thin and precise scars right across the trachea to knotted, lighting-shaped scars that were angry and violent and _deep._

Hide had seen autopsy bodies. If their skin healed over slit throats, they’d look exactly what Kaneki’s throat did.

 _There’s a possible explanation for that,_ he reminded himself, before groaning into the smooth paper of his textbook. He had to stop doing this. He didn’t _want_ Kaneki to have those scars, and he’d be damned for feeling so fucking _responsible_ for them. Responsible because someone had hurt Kaneki and he hadn’t known him at the time.

There was a loud gurgling sound, cutting through the soft whispering of the library, and Kaneki, completely motionless, glowed bright red with embarrassment.

Nothing like a bodily organ to shatter the tension Hide had built himself into. He burst out laughing, slapping the table as Kaneki shrunk in his seat, hiding his face in his book. “Your—your stomach,” Hide wheezed, unable to stop laughing. It was so _funny._ He’d gotten himself worked up over something so dark when Kaneki’s stomach was completely capable of making the same embarrassing sounds as literally everyone else in the world.

“Shut up!” Kaneki groaned, pulling his beanie over his ears. He was so red he looked like he’d just run through a snowstorm. “Everyone’s looking, now.”

“Then let’s get out of here!” Hide plucked the book from his hands, standing up over enthusiastically. His chair fell over behind him, crashing onto the wooden floor. Collectively the room winced at the bang, all gazes now directed at Hide.

_Good._

“I’m starving, K-Haise!” Hide corrected himself at the last second, shoving his textbooks away. “Let’s go to Big Girl.”

“What?”

“Haise, my buddy, my pal,” Hide tugged him out of the chair by his elbow. “When a young boy is feeling tired, it’s good to feed them.”

Kaneki collected his bags and stood, still red but with the embarrassment fading as Hide picked up his chair. “It’s what all mothers know.”

Kaneki could have had a thousand witty comments in response, Hide knew, but in public he was so _shy,_ God. So cute. Instead, Hide looped his arms over the other’s shoulders, brilliantly disregarding any touchy-feely-ness, and lead them out the door.

* * *

 

_Kaneki had lost count of how many times his head smashed against the concrete. Everything was a mess of agony and flames behind his eyes, of the burning of blood spraying against his face as the pain was delayed again and again and his skull was shattered again and again_

_And again._

_“You just don’t break, do you?” Kaneki couldn’t even remember who had it had been. Was it Jason? Was it long before Jason? When had Jason started beating him like this? When had the others stopped? Had the others ever stopped?_

_He couldn’t remember. His brain was in such scrambles after that he never had the coherence to remember._

_Itimi dabbed at the blood on his face. “Fucking animals,” she muttered under her breath. Behind him, Koma had his hands on his shoulders to keep him from slumping forward. He had to be strong. He couldn’t make things worse. He was ruining them. Not them. Please, not them._

_“You’re all right, boy,” Koma said, his deep voice softer on the ears than Irimi’s, “You’ll patch up just fine. Don’t you worry. The Devil Ape will get him back, I promise you.”_

_Kaneki never had the nerve to make jokes about the Devil Ape, because deep down, he’d always hoped that maybe the Devil Ape could save them. Sometimes, he’d lay in the dark and imagine a world in the future where they were all free and everyone would joke about the Devil Ape while Koma was just another minimum-wage worker. They were his fairy tale. His shame. He never told anyone._

_He never got the chance._

_It took weeks before he was deemed well enough to be taken out of their room again and suffer the same treatment. By then, the damage was already done. It didn’t matter how much Kanou fucked with his genetic code. It didn’t matter. Injuries were accepted as the template. Brain damage didn’t heal like skin. The ability to taste, once lost, was lost forever._

_It didn’t matter to him at the time. He could eat. Food was food, and they needed every scrap they were given._

_It was funny how quickly he came to understand the need for food just before they took it all away._

* * *

 

“Is that Tsukiyama?” Hide was talking with his mouth full, and he honestly didn’t care. Across from him, Kaneki hunched over his plate of steaming food, staring worriedly into the phone screen. Judging by the way Kaneki was rapidly texting back, it had to be someone that _required_ communication.

“Yeah,” Kaneki said, chewing a little on his lip. Hide swallowed the comment. “He’s coming to campus today, and I’m telling him I’m not there right now. I might have to leave early, sorry, Hide.”

“He can just come here, right? What’s so bad about that?”

Kaneki pressed his lips together, like he’d thought of the idea already but was too afraid to suggest it. “But that’s annoying to you, right? I don’t—”

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” Hide nudged him with his foot under the table to drive the fact home. “I mean, I may not be able to afford buying him any food, but—”

 _“You’re not paying,”_ Kaneki hissed in his _very_ Kaneki voice. “I’ll pay for him. Is that okay?”

“You paying isn’t.”

“Tsukiyama coming?”

“He’s harmless,” Hide waved it off. “Stop stressing, your food will get cold!”

* * *

 

Tsukiyama Shuu certainly had a personality. He was dressed far less conspicuously than Hide was used to: a pale pink shirt over eye-cancer-giving pants, but that was an improvement. His hair had been dyed a little bluer, probably for the spring. He sat down beside Kaneki, ordered for himself, and then commenced in a conversation.

‘Is your date pleasant?” he asked, smiling slyly towards Hide. “Not the most romantic of spots.”

“Not all of us are rich,” Hide reminded him. “Humility, friend.”

“ _Mais c’est pas séduisant,”_ Tsukiyama responded in flawless, flamboyant French. He smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “Dates must be catered to the other member. Take Kaneki here, he enjoys reading. Have you ever been to a bookshop together?”

“No, I came to see him at work, though,” Hide replied dumbly. Kaneki put his head in his hands, obviously still not over that particular night (when was it, four days ago?) His ears were red, and Tsukiyama looked between them with a mixture of horror and respect.

“Hey, Tsukiyama,” Hide spoke up, “how did you lean French?”

The taller man turned towards him, dark eyes smug again. “Well, in my household it was customary to know a second language. From an early age, I enjoyed studying, and am now fluent in French, Italian, Japanese and a little bit of German.”

“Jesus.”

 _“’Mon dieu’_ sounds better, in my opinion.” Tsukiyama leaned back in his chair as the plate of food was placed before him. He did his general overly-enthusiastic thanks and the waitress ran off with a red face. “What a nice girl.”

“Do you have to do that?” Kaneki muttered. “It attracts too much attention, Tsukiyama. Your father—”

“Would understand,” he finished. “Believe it or not, Kaneki, I am still a young man.”

Tsukiyama Shuu lied a lot, Hide realised. He saw it in the lingering touches of his hair, sweeping his fringe aside. For all the times he pressed his hand to his chest he would remove it again too quickly. His smile was too well practiced.

Tsukiyama Shuu was probably more worried about being sprung than Kaneki, seeing as Tsukiyama had everything left to lose: his father, his image, his education and his future. But something compelled him. Sure, he was probably a super creepy guy, but Hide couldn’t help but feel that there was a lot more to Tsukiyama Shuu than the man who had lost his entire wealth and estate.

Hide and Tsukiyama chatted away, but their conversation was superficial. It was barely better than ‘yo, the weather’s cool today’. By that, it was just talking about what work they had to do. In that time, Hide noticed Kaneki carefully finishing his meal, picking up his phone, and having the slightest of a reaction.

Work? A job? Danger? Were they being watched?

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Kaneki said suddenly, standing. “I’ll be back in a second.”

He took his phone with him.

The two remaining watched him disappear, before Tsukiyama turned towards him, eyeing him up and down without the excessive politeness or even creepiness that Hide had been expecting. It was suspicion.

“I hear you work for the CCG,” Tsukiyama said. “Your arrival in the bar was impressive.”

“They’re on my back, what can I say?” Hide smiled, trying to diffuse the tension that had settled over them like a tension. He didn’t want to start anything with someone Kaneki was friends with. God, why were people so hard to be friendly when he _wanted_ them to be friendly?

“You’re being watched,” Tsukiyama said lowly. “It’s impossible not to go into that place and not be caught onto. You’d best watch yourself.”

Everyone seemed to have a serious side, Hide realised. The sharp gleam to Tsukiyama’s gaze was no exception. This was the man who had evaded the entirety of the CCG chasing after him, this was the man who had hired Kaneki to kill forty members of the Restaurant after he was betrayed by them. Other than the personality, loss had shaped him into _this._

“It can’t be _that_ bad,” Hide shrugged. “I don’t even have a crime to my name.”

“You don’t need one,” Tsukiyama said. “Kirishima has a high opinion of you, but if you endanger the safe haven we’ve made for ourselves, then I will personally see to it that you die.”

Hide swallowed. “I have no intention of doing that.”

“Hideyoshi, have you ever studied social law?” Tsukiyama leaned a head on his hand, growing steadily more confident and intimidating. “In that department, they believe that intent is not equal to the crime. I agree with this. Therefore, Hide, even if it’s accidental . . .” Tsukiyama let it hang in the air, finishing with a smile.

Hide returned it. “Got it. Also, can I ask how you found Kaneki for hire back in April? It’s nothing serious, I’m just curious.”

Tsukiyama’s body language remained unperturbed, but Hide saw the subtle flick of a finger in reaction. He wondered how it felt to have the weight of that on his shoulders. Hide really didn’t want to incriminate anyone, but he had to let Tsukiyama know that he wasn’t useless. “Y’know, during the Restaurant saga. I’m just not sure how you of all people would have found him.”

Tsukiyama’s smile thinned and widened as he squinted. “Touché, Nagachika Hideyoshi. Touché.”

“Thank you,” Hide’s smile felt heavy. This was like the Washuu. He got like this when he was with the _Washuu._ “But honestly, I don’t mind keeping secrets for you guys.” To emphasise this, he bit down on a chip. “Besides, I can always find a scapegoat.”

“You’re more sneaky than you look,” Tsukiyama remarked, his face relaxing. “In reward, how about I teach you some French?”

“I don’t really see how that’s related.” Hide already knew he was being played. “But sure.”

“It means ‘I am smart’,” Tsukiyama grinned widely, teeth showing. “Repeat after me: _Je—suis—con.”_

He literally had no idea what it meant. _“Jey—sweez—conne?”_

“No, no, like this.” Tsukiyama placed his hand son the table.

“ _Je—”_

_“—je—”_

_“—suis—”_

_“—suis—”_

_“—con.”_

_“—con.”_

_“Je suis con.”_

_“Je suis con.”_

“ _Manifique!”_ Tsukiyama applauded. “Well done, well done. Now, when Kaneki comes back from his business call, you can show him.”

“Why would I need to show him?”

“What?” Kaneki sat himself down in his chair so suddenly Hide could have yelped. Even after knowing him for _ages_ he still appeared out of nowhere. Hide watched him slip his phone away quickly. Why had he gone to the bathroom? His hands weren’t even damp from washing them, Hide noticed.

He hadn’t gone to the bathroom.

“I taught Hideyoshi here how to say ‘I am smart’ in French,” Tsukiyama said slyly. “Show him.”

 _“Je suis con,”_ Hide said with pride.

Kaneki was quiet for a very long time, until he slowly turned to Tsukiyama and said softly, “Why did you teach him how to say ‘I am a cunt’ in French?”

Oh, boy. Hide had been _played._ He burst out laughing, joined in by Tsukiyama. He didn’t mind this. It felt normal. Maybe he and Tsukiyama could get along, after all. Kaneki sighed against his hand, but Hide noticed with pride the easy smile he wore now.

* * *

 

It wasn’t that Hide hated planning, but he disliked it when his plans that were actually made were destroyed by something else. Something with a capital CCG. Fuck.

 _“We’re launching an operation,”_ Amon said over the phone. _“There’s a meeting about it tonight. You have to come.”_

“Amon, I had plans—”

“ _Your studies will be excused,”_ Amon said sharply. _“Hide, this isn’t the time. This is important. An operation of this scale hasn’t happened since last year’s Cleanup. You are required to attend.”_

But it was Wednesday. It was his day off. It was Movie Night. It was _Movie Night._

“I’ll be there,” Hide had to stop himself from sighing. “What time?”

_“An hour. Meet us at the office. Clean up and arrive. They should give you your quinique, too.”_

Oh, great. So he wasn’t unarmed and couldn’t use it as an excuse. _Great._

“Okay, see you then.”

Shit. Hide started pacing around the room. He’d even washed _dishes,_ Amon! Goddamn. Okay, he had to tell Kaneki. He dialled the number labelled ‘Sasaki’ and waited for a response, but was instead greeted by Touka.

“ _It’s you,”_ she said quickly. _“Look, Kaneki didn’t have time to call and say he couldn’t come. I didn’t know your number and Kaneki is anal about his password. A certain group wanted him until the end of the week.”_

“How can he not have time for a call?”

 _“It’s complicated,”_ Touka said, not giving anything away. _“I’m sure he’ll cry and apologise or something when he sees you later. A word of advice, Hide: stay off the streets this week. Shit’s real.”_

He should probably tell her about the CCG. It would be better and more logical to.

He didn’t.

“I’ll remember your concern, Touka!” Hide was becoming too used to sounding cherry while his mind turned like a wheel losing its tire. Screeching and sparking, he was trying to find a way out of everything. “I was gonna call and say that Amon broke the printer at work and I have to go and fix it,” he laughed along with the fake excuse. “Maybe it was lucky.”

_Maybe it was just going to even more shit._

“ _You do that,”_ the girl muttered into the phone. _“If you get killed, I’ll beat the shit out of you. Bye.”_

So charming.

* * *

 

 _“_ We’re fighting V,” Eto sipped at her coffee. Around her forearms, she’d already wrapped bandages, but had yet to cover up her face. “Aogiri has been having the petty back alley disputes for long enough. I’ve been luring them to this warehouse for the last few weeks.”

Kaneki pulled at the sleeve of his jumper. “I see.”

_He could be watching movies with Hide._

“I heard the CCG got to _Helter Skelter,_ ” Eto smirked. “It was only a matter of time. Who’d they send in?”

“New recruit,” Kaneki replied dully. He would _not_ tell her about Hide. “Probably won’t be back.”

Eto giggled to herself, amused at the politics of GLG. “So, I’m hoping to have you lead the ground division. All you have to do is get their attention and the rest of us are going to jump out. Get shot a few times. The usual.”

“Do I get paid for this?”

“If we win, Kaneki,” Eto smiled. Her green eyes were alight with the same mischief he was used to, but he knew that her plans went far further than just shallow _mischief._ She was planning to destroy everyone and everything, starting with V.

“That’s not the way it is, Eto.”

“Hmm,” Eto set her mug down. “But you know, I heard a funny story. I was going after V, and I found out a strange story.”

Kaneki said nothing, instead opting to crack his fingers. It was an old habit that, he realised, he hadn’t found himself doing in a while.

He had been living a pleasant life. He had forgotten this was also part of it.

“Apparently, V is the organisation of the Washuu, the leaders of the CCG.”

 _Crack,_ went his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that hc with tsukiyama was something i had going for AGES and just   
> yes
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D


	42. MAMA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN A WHILE  
> GUESS WHO'S ON BREAK AGAIN
> 
> you guys all know me well enough to know i havent proofread this at all lol
> 
> PLS ENJOY

Touka wouldn’t say that she hated Eto. Okay, maybe she would, but the fact of the matter was she didn’t hate her enough to try and fight her. She had allowed Ayato to come and work for her, but at the end of the day she had to remind herself that Ayato chose that path himself and his own _fucking stupidity_ got him there. At least Kaneki had got him out.

But now Kaneki was in the shit too. Fuck the men in her life.

That was why, when Eto stood at the door under the guise of a bushy-haired normal woman, she didn’t start the fight. She hated to be so submissive, but she couldn’t afford to let literally everyone around know who they were and what they did. Fuck it all.

No one was home yet, thank God. If Eto came here, though, then she knew exactly what she wanted. Touka would be lying if that didn’t set her on edge. A familiar edge she had to grip on with her fucking _teeth_ to keep from going ballistic.

“Touka!” Eto smiled at her cheerfully. “Is Sasaki back yet? I need to talk to him.”

“No, he’s not,” Touka blocked her way in before the smaller woman could move. “He may not be coming back today.”

“He will,” Eto said breezily, ducking under arm and entering their apartment. Respectfully, she removed her shoes and straightened them at the door. “Pardon the intrusion. I might just hang around and wait for him, okay? Thanks, Touka. You’re a charm.”

“I didn’t say you could come in,” Touka reminded her, but Eto only smiled.

“I know. Just this once. I won’t be a bother.”

Eto was in their house. Eto, the leader of fucking _Aogiri,_ was in her apartment and she wanted Kaneki. Today was _Wednesday._ The single day of the week where Kaneki didn’t brood silently over himself and instead went and sucked Hide’s face all night. For fuck’s sake, it just _had_ to be today, huh? Eto must have known.

“I’d prefer it if you left, Eto,” Touka continued, holding the door open for the woman who was now standing in the hallway. “Thanks for the visit. No can do today.”

“Touka,” Eto said, her tone hardening, “Thank you for letting me in.”

_I’m staying here until I get what I want, Kirishima._

Touka gnashed her jaw. She wasn’t dumb. She was alone, she had neighbours, Eto would definitely win in a fight, and she had so much to lose.

She slammed the door shut angrily. Shit, she wanted to snap. _Shit._

Eto gave her a wide smile, skipping towards the kitchen. “Oh, you have coffee on! I’ll pour you a cup, Touka. Take a seat.” Everything was ‘ _Touka-chan_ this’ and ‘ _Touka-chan_ that’, as if they were friends. As if they were _friends._

“I don’t need any,” Touka responded sourly. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks!” Eto hummed as she poured herself a mug. Over her shoulder was a small bag that Touka assumed had her ever-present notebook and weapons in it. Touka, still clenching her jaw, sat back down at the table where she had opened her business management book. She’d planned to go into it and run a shop after abandoning her biology dream when she escaped foster care. The pages were worn with how many times she had read them, trying to understand the same concepts.

Eto sighed as she sat down, sipping at her hot drink while she pulled out a notebook. They didn’t speak. Touka had never felt weaker inside her own home. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She didn’t work for Aogiri, so why the fuck was it _Eto_ coming here?

“What do you want with Kaneki?”

Eto giggled, “I knew you’d ask that.” Touka watched with annoyance as Eto put down her bag and brought her knees to her chest on the chair, still sipping from her drink. Her long hair was a voluminous mess as her eyes stared back at Touka sharply.

“I need him for work,” Eto supplied. “A job. Tonight. Finally lured out V and need his _presence_ to surprise them. I just planted the lead at the CCG to have them come as well. I need him there to make _sure_ V comes. You know how it is.”

“I don’t,” Touka replied dully, turning the page of her book. “Couldn’t you have done this tomorrow?”

“Nope,” Eto chirped. “I heard a funny story of the CCG in your little bar the other day and knew it had to be quick. They’re crafty, V.”

Touka pretended she understood, but all she could think was the fact that _Hide_ was the one she meant. Hide had come to the bar. And Eto knew.

“That reminds me,” Eto put down her mug, her smile ice cold. “Doesn’t Kaneki have a boyfriend now?”

“Hell if I know,” Touka snapped, chewing the inside of her cheek. _Not this not this not this. Not this._ “He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“I’m sure he does,” Eto’s smile was like an alligator hovering at the surface of the water, ready to swallow the incoming swimmer. Touka _was_ a prisoner in her own home. “That blonde guy, if I remember. The CCG one. I wonder what he’s like, hmm?”

“It’s none of your business,” Touka returned her smile with a glare. “Didn’t you send that gang after Kaneki the other day? Whatever for?”

Eto looked confused. “Wasn’t it obvious? I just wanted him to break them.”

Keys jangled in the various locks on the door, and Touka internally screamed when she heard Kaneki come in. _Fuck._ He’d come back before going to Hide’s to grab his shit. Fuck Kaneki. _Fuck you._

He closed the door, and Touka clenched her fists as he heard him shuffling around, straightening his shoes, locking the door, walking towards the kitchen. Fuck.

“Touka, who—” the casualness to his tone dropped in an instant as his eyes settled on Eto’s form at the table. He stopped, staring at her for a long moment with an unreadable look, before he removed his glasses and beanie.

“Why are you here, Eto?”

“Get changed for work,” Eto said, smiling. “We leave now.”

“Just me?”

“I told you I wouldn’t so much as ‘touch’ Ayato anymore,” Eto reminded him, still casual and cheery. “Hurry up.”

Kaneki lingered for a second longer, before shrugging. “Fine.”

* * *

 

“I’m _what_?” Hide stared at Amon in shock, holding the order in his hands. ‘ _Detainment of minors’_ it read. Hide was expected to stay back and deal with the minors they pulled up out of the gangs. The background fights. Hide would be staying _indoors_ while his superiors fought for their lives.

_Kaneki’s there._

“It’s an order, Nagachika.” Amon cast an imposing figure when he stood, head and shoulders above Hide. “Because you’re a Rank Three and haven’t been given a quinique.”

“I’m doing _paperwork,_ Amon!” Hide tapped at the paper as if to prove his point. “Excuse you, I didn’t join for my superiors to shit on me with their cool as fuck moves.”

_Smart, Hide. Real fucking smart._

He was worried. He was worried a lot that Kaneki would be there and Hide wasn’t there to make sure nothing happened to him. He didn’t even know how he’d do it, even if he had the chance, but the idea that Kaneki could be getting hurt, that Kaneki was doing shit Hide had no chance of helping him with was terrifying. Because he didn’t believe it yet. He didn’t believe his suspicions.

But he couldn’t rule it out. He had no proof either way.

“Your subordinate sure is lively,” Shinohara clapped Amon on the back. Poor Amon, he looked so guilty and Hide could have snuck his way into the fray with them. Shinohara wasn’t as empathetic as Amon, though. “It can’t be helped, Hide. You’ve got no weapons yet.”

“I can use a general one,” Hide argued. “No biggie.”

“An order is an order, _Tiger.”_ Seidou rubbed at his messy hair with a his knuckles, pulling Hide under his arm. “If you went out now, you’d die.”

“Ow—fuck, stop Seidou. Jesus. Okay, fine. I get it. Don’t let the baby handle the guns.”

Hide hated being beaten. But he was _hopelessly_ beaten. And he had to accept that.

In all honesty, it was probably for the best that he didn’t go.

The warehouse, the site of the operation, was near the warf. Sitting in their portable office, all Hide could smell was the stench of bird poo and salt. Containers built up the area around them. So far, the CCG was just staking out. They’d spotted Aogiri inside the warehouse but no one had advanced yet. They were waiting.

They were sitting ducks, and Hide knew it.

All ‘scouts’ ended up being scraggly-looking teens. They were the people that Hide ended up working with. He was probably the same age as most of them. Hide hadn’t spoken to any of them yet, but the idea of sitting down and having them arrested solely for being involved was overkill, in Hide’s opinion. They were probably minors.

“Nagachika, your turn.” One of the other Rank Threes gestured for him to head into the room. They were taking it in turns, and Hide wasn’t sure whether that would help or ruin his mood in there. Arresting kids wasn’t really his thing.

It was like the back of a police van. First Aid supplies were shelved on the walls, a table stood in the middle with various drug and alcohol testing devices around it. These were kids, Hide tried to tell himself, these were _kids._

Then the accused was brought in.

Kirishima fucking Ayato.

And boy, did he not look pleased to see Hide.

* * *

 

_“Hi . . . nami . . .” the name felt dangerous in his mouth, as if he were committing blasphemy. As if he were staining the perfection of a higher being by calling it by name. He was. He was ruining her by being alive._

_“Hinami,” he said again throat burning. Would he cry now? After all this time, would he finally break down and cry in front of the girl he had taught to read and write? In front of the girl he had tried so desperately to protect and instead become the plight on her life?_

_“I . . . Hinami, I . . .”_

_The smaller girl approached him slowly. Her hair had grown out and she had sprouted into the shape of a young woman. Her large, innocent eyes brimmed with tears._

_“Kaneki,” her voice shook but was clear as she stepped forward. The ‘onii-chan’ in her voice could have made him scream. He wasn’t worthy. He wasn’t worthy. He wasn’t to be respected. He had let so many people die, so why was she saying it with the same tenderness as she had when he was younger?_

_“Hinami—”_

SLAP!

_The blow hardly hurt, but it was the fact that she had slapped him that shook him so bad. Hinami wasn’t violent. She wasn’t—_

_“You took too long!” she scolded, scrunching up her face in anger that she clearly wasn’t used to. “Touka’s been waiting for you all this time!”_

_When he didn’t reply, the anger disappeared, and she started hovering nervously. “Did I slap you too hard? Ah, I’m sorry, Kaneki. Here, let me get you some ice. One second.”_

_Let her never change, please._

_“It’s fine,” he said quietly. His throat burned with the words he wanted to scream out but couldn’t force out. “I’m sorry, Hinami. I took a while, didn’t I?”_

_“Yeah,” Hinami agreed, teary as she pressed the icepack against his cheek. “But . . . welcome home.”_

* * *

 

“How’s Hinami doing?” Eto fixed her hair in bandages. “She still at school?”

“Yeah,” Kaneki said dully. He’d straightened his knives on the table, sharpening them one at a time. Next to them were two small guns and loads of ammunition. Eto didn’t want any stuff-ups. Thirteen knives. He had thirteen. Five in his belt, two strapped to each leg, one buried in his boot. He had to be prepared.

The entirety of the CCG was here. V was coming.

Kaneki Ken knew that Eto hadn’t dragged him along for manpower. She had more than enough. She wanted him there for something else. He didn’t know what, though, and he wasn’t going to ask.

It was him instead of Ayato. He couldn’t complain.

“She’s smart, that one.” Eto hummed as she pulled up another roll of gauze. “Touka knew to keep her away from me, but I would have loved to have her work for me as well.”

“She won’t ever work for you, Eto,” he responded. “Ever.”

Eto laughed heartily. “I know, I know. I won’t ask. Besides, I don’t really need her.”

Kaneki wiped down another knife and tucked it into his belt, moving to the next one. He already knew the plan: get the CCG’s attention while the rest of Aogiri swarmed them from the outside. Eto had been picking away at the plan for weeks. Inside the warehouse would be more than enough members, anyway.

Eto loved the theatrics of the undead. She loved watching him bleed. She loved the way Investigators would scream and pray when he advanced. She loved it all.

In some fucked up way, Kaneki loved it too. It was a cursed strength he had earned. It was a power that separated him. It was the power of chemicals and hell, but he used it. It made him strong enough to fight.

It made him strong.

“When V come, I want you to tell them something.” Eto leaned on the edge of the table, holding his chin in her fingers. Her eyes gleamed with the burning intelligence and destruction he had come to respect her for. “Tell them that I know _everything,_ okay?”

* * *

 

“Nagachika fucking Hideyoshi,” Ayato remarked, slumping in the chair. His wrists were bound with handcuffs that jingled metallically against the chair. His hair was a mess, and a fresh bruise was rising on his cheekbone, along with a nosebleed and a split lip. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Hide gave him a reassuring grin, but the only thought in his mind was _holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck._ “I literally work for the CCG, remember? Besides, I could ask _you_ the same question.”

“Sister told me Kaneki got hounded by Eto,” Ayato glared up at him. “So I came after him. Fucking idiot.”

_Eto._ There was the name again. The same person who had set Kaneki up _that same weekend._ Who were they?

“Kaneki’s a big boy who can look after himself,” Hide shrugged. “Why did you _really_ come, Ayato?”

Ayato gave a careful glance around the room, but Hide cut him off. “There’s no fancy recording devices in here. Spill the beans, Kirishima boy.”

“I will _beat_ you,” Ayato growled, before sitting up and glaring Hide in the eye. “Two of the most dangerous gangs in Tokyo are clashing _tonight,_ and I’m expected to sit out? Kaneki is a fucking idiot. No, don’t give me that look, Nagachika—V is the kind of gang that will _abduct_ people. And Kaneki is exactly what they want.”

“Where does a kid like you learn shit like this?” Hide didn’t even realise the change in his approach. The drop in his voice felt hauntingly natural. He stared right back Ayato, who was looking more dishevelled by the minute. The younger boy clenched his jaw, still glaring.

“You gonna quiz me, _Investigator_?” Ayato smiled, but it became more of a snarl as he bared his teeth. “Whose side are you on?”

_Whose side are you on?_

“You got me.” Hide held up his hands. “But I gotta know, Ayato: what was your grand plan for getting the fuck out of here?”

“Meeting up with Kaneki and bitching his sorry ass home,” Ayato grumbled back. “Why are you here, anyway? Isn’t it your date night?”

“Don’t remind me,” Hide sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I even washed the bowls, Ayato. _The bowls._ I was so ready, but then Aogiri decides to do this? Yeah. Bummed out, I guess. But take it one day at a time, and right now, I need to look after you. So tell me, how do you plan of getting out this _realistically_?”

Ayato scowled, looking away. “Doesn’t matter.”

“You know, I would argue that it does matter.” _Thank God Hide had been assigned this. Thank God._ “Just a little.”

“Look, I ran out of the house with Touka screaming me down. If I can meet up with Kaneki, then it won’t be a problem.”

“Meeting up with Kaneki _is_ the problem, Ayato,” Hide chuckled to himself. Ayato was just like his sister: impulsive and good-willed. And angry. Very angry. Angry all the time. “You’ll need to think up another way.”

Ayato slammed his bound hands down on the table, but Hide didn't react. “What other way is there, huh?”

“For starters,” Hide said, tapping his handcuffs. “You could remember that the perimeter of the CCG does not include the bay. The warf is one hundred metres behind this station, Ayato. Can you swim?”

“ . . . yeah. Wait, why?”

“When I tell them I’m done with you,” Hide stood, digging through the doors for a key to the handcuffs, “I’ll send you back out with two guards.” They were all the same model, so theoretically, if he found another pair, he could unlock them. “The path they take to the holding van is further back towards the water.”

“Are you telling me to just run for it?”

“Basically.”

“What about the rest of them?” Ayato could have yelled, his glare was so intense. “You’re just going to leave them there?”

“ _They_ are not A-rank criminals,” Hide prodded, finally finding a key. “There will be no ‘Black Rabbit’ among them. They’ll be sent to the police station and questioned and sent home with a criminal record.” _Unless they go with the CCG._ “And probably put on good behaviour bonds. You, on the other hand, would be going straight to Cochlea.”

Ayato swallowed but didn’t respond. Hide unlocked the handcuffs, letting the younger boy stretch his hands. “So, when they try and load you onto that bus, break out of these and just run. Sprint. Dive. Then go the fuck home, yeah? Don’t give Touka more to worry about.”

“Yeah right,” Ayato scoffed, running a hand through his hair. His knuckles were bright red, Hide noticed. Bust from punching. His shirt was also torn where he must have been grabbed.

“I’m serious.” Hide pulled out some paper, and wrote down a fake name and details. He left the ‘Investigator name’ blank. He didn’t need to incriminate himself. “Okay, got it? Hold the cuffs so they look like they’re still locked. Then run. Look after number one, got it?”

_Look after number one._

Ayato nodded, like he had a newfound respect for Hide. Honestly, Hide felt like he was impressing Kaneki’s brother or something. Ayato clicked the handcuffs back on loosely, still able to take his hands out. Hide’s plan was gripping at straws, but it had potential.

“At the entrance to the wharf is a police guard,” Hide told him. “Skirt around the edges. I’m sure you know Tokyo better than I do. Get yourself home.”

“If I get caught,” Ayato threatened, but he was smiling, “I blame you, Nagachika.”

Hide reached for the door, grinning. “Just ‘Hide’ is fine.”

* * *

 

Kaneki shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, gripping the guns in each. Behind him, he felt a thousand pair of eyes watching him exit the warehouse, hood pulled up, walking towards the blockade of CCG officers in front of him, torches glaring and rifles raised.

He scanned the crowd. Hide wasn’t there. _Hide wasn’t there._

He breathed out a long, low sigh of relief, before walking further forward.

_Let the operation begin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you all thank you so much
> 
> new chapter soon hopefully because i actually have time for a change
> 
> Thanks again!


	43. Hollywood Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally everything goes to shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I had all day to work on this. Please enjoy it! I proofread it but I'm worried I may have skipped some bits. Sorry if that's the case :P

You just have to kill them.

_Was it Rize’s voice, or was it his own? Or was it Jason? Was it Irimi, stroking his hair and telling him what he deserved? Was it Koma telling a bad joke? He didn’t know. Fuck, he didn’t know. He was alone in the dark and he didn’t_ know.

_In a way, it was worse than being on that table. At least he could see what was happening, there. He could see Jason coming. He could see Kanou taking notes. He could see it all and he would scream and cry but he could see._

_In the dark, he had only himself._

_It was terrifying._

It will end if they’re all dead, too.

_It could be Rize. She could be in the isolation cell as well, curled up in the corner. She would be pristine and healthy, glowing in the dark while she studied his destroyed form. The pool of blood he lay in would not so much as graze the bottom of her skirt. She could be resting her head on her palm, smiling at him as she spoke._

_Smiling at him. Laughing at him._

They’ve killed you enough times. They’ve killed your friends. Don’t you think they _deserve_ it?

_No. It was Irimi. She would be kneeling beside him, dabbing at the blood on his face with the hem of her gown. She’d stroke his hair of his face, and remind them all that they didn’t deserve any of this._

_Jason deserved this. Kanou deserved this._

It’s only because of your own weakness that you left them to die.

_No. It was Jason. Seeping out of the wall like a wraith, hovering towards him, dragging his huge body behind him while those large, crushing hands reached out to him to shatter his skull with his digits. Kaneki tried to scramble away, but his back hit the door, and in the tiny cell there was no more room. He was there. Jason was there. Jason was going to kill him—_

_Unless Kaneki killed him first._

_Soft, hoarse laughter echoed in the room. He was alone. Kaneki was alone. That was so funny. That was so fucking_ funny. _Because it was simple. All this time he’d been begging a God that didn’t exist for mercy. All this time he’d been screaming and crying but really, it was all simple. A simple_ joke.

_Kaneki was the joke._

_It was so simple. It was just counting down from 1,000. It was just bones growing back. It was just tears drying. It was just breathing stopping. It was just people dying._

_He’d missed the point the whole time, hadn’t he? God, he was so stupid. It was so simple. So, so simple._

_People were meant to die. The strong lived longer._

That’s the way. _It was Koma’s reassurance, but with Rize’s smile. Blood dripped from her mouth, running down her neck and staining the front of her dress ruby red as she removed the man’s tongue from her mouth._

The strong are the ones who kill, Kaneki. _It was Rize. She thumbed at his mouth, smearing blood across it._ The weak are the ones who are killed. That is how simple it is.

_Wait, it couldn’t be. Surely not, right? Kaneki remembered his mother’s hamburger, her soft smile, the way she would explain the hard kanji in books._

Instead of the one hurting others, become the one getting hurt. _His mother’s fist clamped in his hair, and suddenly Kaneki was ten years old again, crying and waiting for the hit. Any second. “Please, Mom,” he begged, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry—”_

_Rize appeared behind her, smiling. “Isn’t she wrong, Kaneki?”_

_Who was wrong? Was Kaneki wrong? Was his mother wrong? No. No, it was so much bigger than that. Everything was wrong. Everything in the world was wrong. Humans were wrong. The law of nature was wrong. The turning over of the days and nights was wrong, wrong, wrong._

_“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re all wrong.”_

_He sat up against the wall, pressing down the open wound in his side. How many hours would it take to heal? Who knew? He didn’t care. He was just a boy, left alone to rot in the dark. Left to brood. Left to fester._

_He was going to destroy it._

* * *

 

Shinohara Yukinori remembered the day he’d first received reports of the new criminal. His name was Kaneki Ken, age eighteen, and probably the worst the city had ever seen.

His file had been handed over directly from Yoshitoki. They showed a black-haired boy who had been missing for over eighteen months. Even to this day, Shinohara had never been able to connect how the Washuu knew about him whilst his face was not released to the public. Kuriowa had his theories, but at the end of the day, there were no leads.

Unless the Washuu were hiding something.

Shinohara had worked for the CCG for nearly twenty years. He could afford to start doubting the integrity of the organisation over the file of _one boy._ SS-class criminal or not, he couldn’t.

Overall, he wasn’t sure what triggered the initial doubt, but several factors combined made him realise something very important:

The Washuu were indeed hiding something.

The primary factor was Kaneki Ken in combat. He wasn’t human.

A normal human does not have the reaction speed to dodge a bullet with a tilt of their head. A normal human does not have the strength to flip over a man twice his size. A normal human cannot navigate the crowd of heavily-armed CCG officers with the agility and stamina of someone like _him._

“Squad Three! Aim and fire!”

A normal human being cannot withstand a hail of bullets and then stand.

Shinohara felt he was opening the lid of Pandora’s box. Whatever Kaneki Ken meant, whatever the Washuu were hiding, whatever secrets made up the inner workings of CCG’s branches, it was something far beyond what he had ever thought of. He had considered corruption; he had considered that the largest gang groups may be controlled by the Washuu themselves, he had considered all aspects, but he had never considered _this._

Kaneki Ken stood on shaky legs, blood dripping around him in a halo on the concrete beneath his feet. His hood had flown off, and Shinohara stared at the white head of hair stained red, the familiar black scarf drawn over his nose and mouth.

Kaneki produced a gun from either of his pockets and fired into the group. Investigators ducked behind their screen shields, but bullets began to scratch the surface. They wouldn’t hold. They had to subdue him _now._

“Squad One! Advance!” he didn’t even register that the words had come from his own mouth. His squad ran into the fray, and Shinohara caught sight of Suzuya vaulting over one of the taller members to reach the front, sprinting towards the white-haired man.

Shinohara would be lying if he hadn’t considered them connected before. Suzuya had come from _that_ place, but they’d never investigated further. The idea that a living soul could remain there was morbidly terrifying.

_“He was retrieved at the Restaurant,” he was told. “His testimony states that he lost his leg in a lab area from before he was sold to Big Madam. He says there were more people.”_

_“The CCG has never received any news of a lab,” Shinohara replied, cautious. “Has his claim been investigated?”_

_“It was left to Squad 0.”_

Now, Shinohara realised, maybe it was because they had everything to hide.

“It’s just one man!” he ordered, lifting his own quinique: a personalised medium-range gun, made to measure with the firing capacity only his own body could withstand. “Take him down!”

That was when the rest of Aogiri came streaming out of the warehouse and swarming them from the outside.

* * *

 

 

V seemed to rise out of the ground like a weed. No one noticed until it was in full bloom, overrunning the fight and bubbling around corners. They cut down Investigators left right and centre, and Hide and the others were trapped indoors. They’d long lost contact with the majority of the squads. Akira’s and Amon’s were one of them. The Houji squad was still responding, but Hide could shake his unease. Something was _wrong._ Something was going to go _wrong._

“ _All standby troops,”_ Marude’s voice rang through the speakers of the station. _“Arm yourselves and prepare to aid Houji squad. Shoot to kill. I repeat, shoot to kill.”_

A collective wave of young CCG investigators picked up the guns from the cabinet provided. The weight felt hauntingly nostalgic in Hide’s hands. He’d fired them every day, when he was in his crash course. It still felt like he was carrying a piece of death in both his hands, though. It was cold and smelling of iron. Like blood.

Hide had never been planning on going out to shoot people. It felt almost like a bad joke to be where he was right then. One of these people here could kill Kaneki. Kaneki could kill one of his superiors. Kaneki could be captured.

Amon, Akira, Kaneki, Seidou, Suzuya, Shinohara . . . any of them could die. Any of them.

Just like Takashi and Satsuki. They could die like them.

_Stop thinking like that,_ he told himself, lifting the gun away. _This is different._

He zipped up the vest. Slid on a helmet. The earpiece lined up correctly, and he tested the visor. Check, check, check. Ready. He was ready to go out.

It was different. Every variable was different. None of the people he was worried about were defenceless. All of them were more used to fighting than he was. Hide should be worried about himself, really. But he couldn’t help it. They could die.

He remembered the feeling of the gun against his head, and his bones turned to ice. He could die, too. Everyone could die.

_Maybe Kaneki couldn’t._

“Stay focused,” he whispered to himself, clutching the gun to his chest. “Keep your head, Nagachika.”

_Yoko poked his head, causing him to trip backwards. “Fool,” she scolded him. “Why go after that cow? The boar was_ right there, _Hide! You could have been hurt!”_

_“But, Ma,” child Hide protested, rubbing at his forehead, “the calf was going to be hurt!”_

_“Animals have a natural instinct to keep themselves safe.” Yoko squatted to his level, pulling his hand away and holding it in both of hers. They were soft hands, very unlike his father’s. They were not farming hands like his own. “You, on the other hand, need to work on yours.”_

_“But Ma, the_ calf _—”_

_“Don’t change the subject on me, young Nagachika.” She stood, pulling him up. “Look after number one. That’s the most important thing. If everyone looks after themselves, you’ll never have anything to worry about.”_

_Then she paused, looking across the view of the mountains in the distance. “Humans are much harder to understand than a wild boar, mind you. So, Hideyoshi, let that calf protect itself. Look at you. You’ve lost the skin of your leg because of that pig. What would have happened if you were slow, huh?”_

_“Sorry, Ma.”_

_“Don’t apologise to me,” Yoko scolded, rubbing his head. “You’re the one that got hurt. Keep your head. Be logical. One calf can be replaced. One son, however is a harder task.”_

“Move out! Move out!” Hide fell into step with the others jogging into the battlefield. This was different, he reminded himself. This was different.

_“The majority of people are right-handed,” his combat instructor told him. “They’ll swing with their right first. You can see this by seeing which leg comes forward. Right food, left hand. Left food, right hand. A punch with no step will be weak enough to block. A strong punch is slow enough to read. When in doubt, duck under to the right and go straight for the knee.”_

Staying in the middle was smart until they ran into their first group of gang members. Hide, in all his years, never thought he’d see himself from this view. He was being attacked because he was CCG. Not because he was Nagachika Hideyoshi. He had the right clothes and he was being attacked.

He jumped out of the man’s swing. What gang was he? He didn’t look like V, but he sure as hell didn’t look like Aogiri. Shit. What judgement was he going to make?

“Shoot to kill, Investigator!” came a cry from behind him, and a spray of blood erupted from the man in front of him. Hide risked a second to glance behind him, and from behind the visor of the other Rank Three’s mask saw an all-too familiar face of Renji. Fucking _Renji._

He looked ready to throw up. They were nerves Hide realised he didn’t have.

“To Houji squad, yeah? Let’s go!”

Hide never thought he’d end up in a situation where he actually respected Renji of all people.

It didn’t last.

“ _Arriving now, Houji Squad,”_ their group leader spoke through the mic. Hide didn’t bother to remember her name, but he could see the other concentrated group of Investigators fighting off Aogiri members. They’d climbed the warehouse and were firing down from the windows.

Renji clapped him on the back, and the next second, with a wave of popping gunfire, Hide registered Renji’s presence fall.

“Renji?” Hide glanced around, but didn’t see him. Had he run in another direction? Had he tripped? Where had he gone? Was he—?

_Oh._ Behind him, a wave of Rank Threes were falling. Hailed down by the bullets. Renji was one of them.

“Don’t look!” Someone grabbed him by the arm and tugged him forward towards the rest of Houji Squad, who were currently huddled inside the smaller warehouse beside Aogiri’s, where the exchanged blows. Inside, Hide finally stopped to catch his breath. His heart was beating so fast he was scared he’d throw it up. People were dead. People were _dead_ and he’d never even bothered to learn their names, what the hell?

Houji Squad. That was Seidou’s, right? God, he needed Seidou right now.

“Takizawa?” he called into the crowd, but no one answered. “Seidou? Takizawa Seidou? Is he here?”

A dark-haired woman who had removed her helmet gave him a sad look. Pity. There was so much pity in her eyes Hide stopped breathing. Her suit read Rank One.

“Where is he?” Hide whispered, unable to speak properly. “Where’s Seidou?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lips quivering. “He’s . . . I don’t know. He went off with another group before, but we lost contact.”

“He could be alive, then.” Hide sounded hysteric. Calm down, Nagachika. Make it through this. “It’s fine. Maybe they lost their helmets. It’s probably nothing.”

She shook her head furiously, gripping his wrists like a vice. Her gun lay discarded beside her, Hide realised. She’d broken down in the middle of an operation. Why? Squinting through the gloom inside the building, he realised her hands were bloody. Her helmet on the ground beside her feet had a film of blood across the visor. How many people were already dead?

“Accidents like that don’t happen, Rank Three.”

_Takizawa Seidou is dead._

* * *

 

“Are you V?” Kaneki kicked the man square in the chest, forcing him to the ground. The CCG had dispersed in the panic, and now he was alone. Sighing, he leaned his weight into the man’s chest that writhed under him.

“Answer the question,” he repeated, grinding down his heel. “ _Are you V?”_

“Y-Yes!” the man stammered. “Please, let me go!”

Kaneki yanked him up by the collar, searching the man’s panicked gaze for a lie. He saw none. “I have a message from the One Eyed Owl. For your leader. I’m going to released you, and you’re going to run and tell them. Got that?”

“Y-Yes! I understand! I won’t try anything, I promise!”

_Were all members in V this easy to intimidate?_

“They say that they know ‘everything’.” Kaneki gripped the man’s shirt tighter and lifted him to his feet. “And they want your leaders to know that. Now, run. If you take too long, I’ll shoot you and tell someone else.”

“I’ll be quick,” the man promised, nodding quickly. “Please, I’ll be perfect.”

_Something’s off._

Kaneki threw him away. “Don’t waste my time, then.”

The man scampered off, and Kaneki was left to watch him go. He surveyed the area in front of the warehouse. Bloody, fallen corpses of investigators and Aogiri members vomited out of the mouth of the building. The industrial lights had been shot to pieces, casting the entire interior in darkness. Glass crunched under his boots and twinkled out of the folds in his clothes. Glass and blood. How familiar.

A salty breeze whistled through the steel walls, and Kaneki realised someone was standing behind him.

The click of a gun cut through the air. “Don’t move, Kaneki Ken.”

_Amon Kotarou._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "Renji" is the name of a random OC that is NOT Yomo Renji. I made that mistake and was too lazy to change it. 
> 
> //shrug
> 
> So ... I guess it was okay? I feel like everything is a mess in this story right now. Please bear with it! Thanks :D
> 
> Thank you to everyone that read the chapter! I'm eternally grateful to all of you, and I wish I could tell you that more often! Stay safe, and have a good day/night!


	44. Wish That You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> booyeah have some more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look im not that happy with it  
> It feels really short and like??? shallow???  
> idk   
> BUT, it is a valuable chapter and for the sake of the story it needs to be in this. Pls enjoy!

“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.” Amon drew back the hammer of the gun, keeping it trained in the centre of Kaneki’s back. “Drop your weapons and put your hands behind your head. You’re under arrest.”

_Why did you let me live? Why are you so irregular? What is your goal, Kaneki?_

Amon didn’t so much as blink until Kaneki let the gun clatter to the ground. Slowly, the smaller man raised his head and clasped them behind his head. Something was off. It was his relaxed posture, his weight leaning on one leg. What could he do? Why wasn’t he standing straight and at attention? Amon could kill him.

Kaneki wasn’t even alarmed enough to stand straight. Amon swallowed hard. He recalled the last time they’d clashed. He’d been hopelessly outmatched, and no amount of training would prepare him for the anomaly of Kaneki Ken. Even Amon would react to being shot.

Maybe he was wearing a bullet-proof vest, Amon rationalised, unclipping handcuffs from his belt. He advanced slowly, holding the gun steady while he readied the cuffs. The quicker the better, and everyone could go home knowing that Kaneki Ken was off the streets.

He reached out, trying to clip the metal around one of Kaneki’s wrists while pressing the gun into the back of his head. This was one step towards a better Tokyo. People would stop falling victim to this city’s corruption. One at a time, and now _Kaneki_ would—

The split second Amon had to register Kaneki’s white head ducking away was enough to let him dodge the elbow that flew back at him. Kaneki scooped his gun off the ground and stepped back, holding it out in front of him. Amon cursed, tossing aside the handcuffs. He needed both hands on the gun, now. Curse Kaneki and his ability to escape.

“You haven’t shot yet,” Kaneki noted sharply. “But I moved.”

“Tch.” Amon bit back a swear, steadying himself. Consider the options. In terms of a fight, he had a chance. In the open space they were in, there were no areas for Kaneki to run off to. A small opponent like Kaneki would rely on his surroundings. Something he didn’t have here. Amon had the advantage.

Another option was calling for backup. Doing so would waste precious seconds and really, he should have done it when he had Kaneki immobile. A mistake. A rookie mistake that he should have seen through. If he didn’t make it out of this, he’d be rolling in his grave with the amount of jokes about it Akira made.

Kaneki, this time, was clearly more open to discussion. Maybe he could talk him down. Buy his time.

 _Think outside the box, Amon,_ Mado used to tell him. _All the people you’re trying to catch are. Try and think like them._

What was outside the box with Kaneki Ken? Buy time, Amon. Step one: buy time.

“Hand yourself in,” Amon said, stepping forward. He gripped the gun with both hands. “You can still make up for what you’ve done.”

“Death isn’t very reversible, Amon,” Kaneki bit back, unmoving. It was too easy, Amon knew, taking another hesitant step. He stared down the barrel of Kaneki’s gun. Any breath could be his last, but he couldn’t force himself to realise it. He had so much left. So much left to _do_ —

Kaneki’s hand jerked down, firing at Amon’s foot. By some miracle, Amon dived to the side before getting hit, only tearing through the fabric of his pants. Amon rolled, and Kaneki fired into the concrete behind him, pushing him away.

Amon forced himself to his feet, finding his gun again and firing back. Without realising, he had aimed right for Kaneki’s face. _Shit._ Kaneki couldn’t—

The other didn’t move. The bullet flew into the distance, disturbing only the white hairs on the other’s head. His ear was brushing his collar, his had tipped to the side. At such close range, he had evaded the bullet with that _speed_ of reaction? This wasn’t the same Kaneki he had met last year. This was someone else.

Or was it? The regard Kaneki held him in was devoid of anything. Not hatred. Not judgement. Not compassion. Nothing.

It was someone who would give him a spare second to call for backup.

Amon lifted the gun again, but this time Kaneki discarded his over his shoulder. Empty. Quickly, Amon pressed a finger to his comm. “This is Rank One Amon. I’m currently in combat with Kaneki Ken. Requesting backup to the inside of the main warehouse. Over.”

The response was instantaneous. _“The Houji squad is heading your way!”_

Houji squad? Hadn’t they been overrun only a few minutes ago? Maybe the addition of Rank Threes had helped them overpower the Aogiri members in their way. Amon couldn’t afford to think on it. They’d be here in a few minutes. That was the time Amon needed to subdue Kaneki Ken in so that he didn’t attack the rest of them.

He’d do it. There was no room for failure.

“What’s the matter, Kaneki?” Amon swallowed hard. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he was blinking it out of his eyes. “Why are you going easy on me, huh?”

Kaneki blinked once, then withdrew two knives from his belt with both hands. “You’re worth leaving alive.”

* * *

 

They were sitting ducks. Houji, their squad leader, had gone off with the small group Seidou had left with. The ones that were dead. Remembering that sent a hollow pang through him, as if Hide were made of corrugated steel. They had to get out. They had to get out.

In the gloom, Hide drew in the dust with his finger. A large rectangle comprised the warehouse they were faced with. It was two storeys high, with snipers aiming at whoever stepped out of the doorway. Investigators huddled against the far wall. Next to it, he drew their small building. It was probably used to house delivery vans. The ceiling was low and there was a residual smell of petrol.

What could they do? There was only one exit and entrance the CCG could take. In looking for safety, they had ruined their chances.

As if on cue, another rain of bullets came hailing through the steel walls of the garage, pepping the front wall with holes and tearing through the back wall. Hide ducked under it, even though they weren’t hitting anyone. _Think,_ Nagachika, _think._ What were their options? How far outside the box could he think? He needed to _escape._

What was their stocks? He glanced around the group. Many of them had the rifles he’d been sent off with. There were a few shorter-range handguns. What could they do with that? They all had bulletproof vests, but they would only be so effective in front of a storm of bullets.

The bullets thinned and stopped, and Hide breathed a sigh of relief. What had they been taught in the course? When was the best time to attack an armed opponent? _Think, Hide!_

Reloading.

_“All firearms have only a set amount of bullets. Depending on the kind of gun, you can have up to 32 bullets at once. Once those bullets are used up, there is a brief window where you can move and attack before the gun is ready to fire again. That’s your window of opportunity to subdue, kill, or run the fuck away.”_

Hide counted the seconds in between the end of the gunfire and the start of the next wave: fifty seconds. It took fifty seconds for them to organise themselves and fire again. They were moving as one giant force and making a swiss cheese out of the steel beside them. Hide guessed they could make it through another two-three rounds before it became too late. He had to act fast.

He crept over to the closest group of people and began to speak. This would work. This had to work. If they were quick enough, maybe no one would die.

It took barely anything to convince them all what to do, despite his rank. For the first time in his life Hide was grateful for that weird calm voice he had, but he’d never felt more unbalanced. He was on a tightrope, and he had no idea how far he would fall if he slipped. Any second, one stray bump, one knock to his concentration, and everything would fall.

He couldn’t fall apart now. He wouldn’t let his friends die again.

Hide braved the final wave of bullets. As soon as they stopped—as _soon_ as they stopped, he’d—

_Now._

Group One, a collection of six Rank Threes ran out the front entrance and began to fire in the open. Distracted by them, the rest of them poked the barrels of their guns through the small bullet holes Aogiri had cut through the walls. They aimed. They fired.

Hide didn’t have time to think about the lives he was taking.

“Group Two, go!” he ordered. At this, a small party of CCG members ran out along with the first guy and opened fire while others fled to safer ground to call for backup. Hide’s arms were growing sore from the rebound, and he knew he was running out of bullets fast. He peered through another one of the holes, trying to see who was loading up the fastest.

There was only a handful of people left. They were ready to fire.

“Take cover!” Hide screamed, trying to aim at those remaining. _For the love of God, run! Get out of there!_ The constraints of the steel meant he couldn’t point it in the direction he needed, _shit_ —

A white blur dove through the remaining members. Hide watched as blood arched and sprayed onto the steel around them. The Investigators stood, mystified, as Suzuya Juuzou leaned out, his face and arms bloody with kills.

“You can leave now!” he sung, proudly brandishing a decapitated head.

Hide could have passed out from relief.

* * *

 

Amon lost track of the blows they had exchanged. His gun had long been kicked across the concrete, out of his reach. Every time he got a hit on Kaneki, the smaller responded in kind. The reports did not lie: Kaneki knew martial arts. Every movement was a spliced, deadly mixture of techniques Amon could not name. He saw hints of Kung-Fu, Judo, Karate and a keen eye for destruction.

_“The key thing with children is that they are surprisingly resilient,” Donato said to the other man. “But there are ways to break them. One is to destroy their parental image.”_

Amon couldn’t shake the haunting feeling that Kaneki knew where to strike through sheer experience. The sharp gaze that picked out which particular rib to shatter, which shoulder to knock out of place, which joints to twist and destroy. Kaneki knew. Kaneki _knew_ and it kept Amon on his toes trying to read through his moves.

_Why did Kaneki let him live? What use could he possibly be? Amon’s friends were dead, but not he. What possible reason would there have been to let Amon live? Kaneki was not one for mercy. Kaneki was not one for personal gain. So why?_

It was only one thing that Amon knew would give him the opportunity to win: their differences. If he negated out everything between them, he was sure they were on even fields. Even with Kaneki’s _additions,_ Amon knew what he had to see. Kaneki was fighting to escape. Amon was fighting to capture him. As long as he remembered the differences between them on a fundamental level, he could win. If he capitalised on what he had that made him stronger than Kaneki, he could win.

_Donato didn’t look at him. His face was bloody. “You shouldn’t come in here, Kotarou. Didn’t I tell you that?”_

Kaneki stepped back, spitting the blood from his mouth. Amon left the space between them, breathing hard. The fight would never be easy. Beneath his protective layers, he was sweltering. God, when were reinforcements coming? He needed to box Kaneki in.

“You’re stronger than you were last year,” Kaneki told him dully, eyeing him. He stepped back, and Amon realised his chance was slipping away. Shit. _Shit._ Kaneki never had any intention of a fair fight from the start, he was just—

Amon felt the sting of the knife against his cheek before he could react, and he watched it sail past until it nailed Kaneki in the collarbone. It was a CCG-issue knife. A Scorpion.

_Suzuya._

“Oh hey, it’s Kaneki!” Suzuya skipped along towards them, tossing his knives back and forth. “Long time no _see_!”

Kaneki was silent as he pulled the knife out of his chest. In the spit second Kaneki’s grey eyes locked onto Suzuya, something changed. A fine thread that composed him snapped in two. He stepped back, staring down.

_There was nothing inside him. Amon slammed his hand against the table. Every lead led to a dead-end with Kaneki Ken. He was irregular. He had no pattern. There was nothing that defined him at all. Because he was nothing._

“Nothing to say, huh?” Suzuya smiled thinly, appearing next to Amon. “Why don’t I make you talk?”

“Suzuya, stand down—”

“You were going to lose, Amon,” Suzuya was smiling, but his eyes were manic. He and Kaneki were on the same wavelength, Amon realised. They were alike. The same chord was wrenching itself apart in both of them.

They knew each other.

“Alive, are you, Suzuya?” The tone of voice was completely different. It sounded like someone far younger than Kaneki. The voice was hoarse, as if from screaming, as if unable to process the fact that Suzuya was there. Amon remembered Suzuya’s sketchy file: how had he arrived at the Restaurant, how had he lost his leg? So many unanswered questions, and now Kaneki was in the mix. The two had a profound effect on each other that Amon knew: they had suffered together.

“Of course I am!” Suzuya flipped his knives back and forth in his hands. “But you know, Kaneki, I wonder how many times I’ll have to kill you before you die.”

There was a beat of silence. In the distance, Amon heard the rumbling of hundreds of pairs of feet. Houji Squad. They were coming.

Laughter shattered the air.

It was Kaneki Ken.

“Come and kill me, Suzuya!” he cried, throwing open his arms. “Isn’t that what I deserve?”

_“Bad children deserve to be punished, Kotarou.” Donato was smiling, but it was the smile of a cruel Grim Reaper. His eyes glowed with manic energy. “Just like the others.”_

“Then, I guess—”

“Let him go, Suzuya.” Amon cut him off. His hands shook with anger, but if he let them clash now, Amon knew it would spiral out of control. Kaneki had won. “He’s won.”

He looked back to Kaneki, but the white-haired man was staring past him, eyes wide. Suzuya shrugged, waving at Kaneki sweetly. “Until next time, ‘kay?”

Kaneki’s attention came back to them for an instant. He nodded, sprinting and running off.

* * *

 

Eto kicked at the air, watching the chaos unfold. “Kaneki Ken.” She kicked off one of the bullets she had meticulously arranged.

“Suzuya Juuzou.” Another.

“Amon Kotarou.” Another.

She stopped, pressing her toe against the last one. “Nagachika Hideyoshi.” She lifted her foot off, and it fell off the roof of the warehouse.

Lifting the gun from the tin roof beside her, she aimed her last bullet at the entrance to the docks. There was a car garage, four storeys high, completely deserted except for the single figure on the roof in a black coat and porkpie hat.

_V._

She pulled back the hammer, unable to hide her smile. They’d come. They’d come, they’d come, they’d come!

What now? Kill him? She could have laughed. Was destroying the world this easy all the time? Surely someone ought to make it into a habit. It was all so very simple once you knew the truth.

Eto fired, knowing it would skim the man several hundred metres away. He didn’t need to die just yet. He needed to be scared. He needed to act. He needed to move.

“I’ve won, V.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm yeah no Hide and Kaneki action  
> don't you worry tho. the storm be coming.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that braved it! I'm super glad you guys all read this and leave comments, kudos, absolutely anything! I hope that we can get to some good stuff soon. New chapter soon!
> 
> Stay safe and have a good day/night!


	45. I Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so much fighting and blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude i fkkn love being on break
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's still following along! You guys are the real MVP and I can't thank you enough!

_“You want to know about Kaneki?” Itori looked genuinely curious. Hide supposed it must be an odd request. The idea of Kaneki Ken was somewhat mysterious and enigmatic, built up through rumours and stories. Maybe it was odd. Hide didn’t know, but he had a job._

_But was that the real reason he was doing this?_

_“I guess I could tell you,” she smiled at him, bringing her wine glass to her lips. “But it will cost you.”_

_Hide slid the manila folder across the table towards her. “This is the compiled data of Donato Porpora, in Cochlea. Tell me what I want and I’ll let you have it.”_

_“Oh?” Itori’s smile was playful, but more like a tiger playing with a wounded fawn. “Is that so? And what if I don’t tell you what you want, Hideyoshi?”_

_The way she said his name made ice prickle along his skin. She said it like it was already hers, rolling around over her tongue like a morsel of food. Hide focused on flexing his toes in his shoes rather than letting his hands tap anxiously. He couldn’t let her know. He couldn’t let her know. He had to be as powerful as she was. Neither of them had anything to lose until he gave himself away. “Then I’ll take this file and leave. Good luck getting another classified CCG document.”_

_Itori’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Well, I guess I could tell you. After all, it’s not a bad story. Boy fights his way out of hell by becoming the biggest monster. Movie material. Want to know some juicy details?”_

_“Only the basics,” Hide stopped her. “His personal details, abilities, experience and affiliations. Don’t tell me more than I want.” He couldn’t afford to be in debt to someone like her. She’d already told him too much. Her red lips stretched into a crescent smile, sharp enough to cut him into pieces._

_“Age: 20. Height: 170 centimetres. By GLG standards, he’s a Rinkakku. That means he specialises in brute strength mid-range and close-range combat. He takes a lot of hits and deals a lot back. It’s a very messy way of fighting. He’s been working for us for a year and a half. He’s not part of any gang but is partial to Aogiri and us. His biggest kill is probably Jason from the Thirteenth Ward. Anything else, little Investigator?”_

_“I didn’t ask for his best kills.”_

_“Take it or leave it,” Itori smiled. She took a sip from her wineglass, staring intently at Hide over the rim. When she put it down, she pursed her lips in thought. “Check your file and tell me what other details there are. I’m sure there’s more than just that.”_

_“You’re very eager to tell me about Kaneki,” Hide noted, not daring to open the file. There was more on it, but he didn’t want to have more information than he could give. He wanted Itori to owe him, he didn’t want to owe her. “Why is that?”_

_Itori just smiled wider. “Why are you so eager to know about him? I can see it. You’ve already been looking into him and found loose ends. I know how it is. But you know, Hide, I have all the answers you want. All you have to do is ask.”_

_Hide knew the opportunity was in front of him. Itori was baiting him, holding out the apple of knowledge with her bright red nails. If he took it, he was trapped. If he left it, he was ignorant._

_“Kaneki Ken was sold to the organ trade at sixteen, entered the gang scene at eighteen, and since then has created a profile for himself through his various activities. He’s one of the CCG’s most elusive criminals, but he’s only one man.”_

_“You sure know a lot,” Itori mused. “But I wonder, if he was working for his Aunt’s drug group since he was, what, twelve, don’t you think he’s been in the gang scene for far longer than a year and a half?”_

_Itori knew._

_“I already know about Donato, don’t remind me of that geezer,” she waved him off. “But I want you to do me a favour, Hide; research the patients that have received illegal organ transplants. Keep tabs on them for a while, okay?”_

_“And what do you want in exchange?”_

_Itori glanced over her shoulder at the bar, before turning back to him. “Nothing at all. That file has more than what I told you about Kaneki, anyway. I think we’re even. A bit against your plan, I know, but call it a day. Besides, Kaneki will be here any second.”_

_Any second?_

_Itori held up three fingers, and counted them down, mouthing the numbers._

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

_The door fluttered open and Kaneki Ken walked out._

* * *

 

He was so far, Hide realised. Standing on the far side of Amon and Suzuya, Hide could hardly believe they had ever met. The odds were so small. The chances were nearly non-existent. Kaneki and he were on the opposite sides of a very black and a very white world, yet they had still found each other.

Hide wanted to go home.

He wanted to go back to that lazy morning lying with Kaneki in the sun-drenched sheets. He wanted sleepy smiles and neglected responsibilities. He didn’t want his friends to die. He didn’t want Kaneki to die. He didn’t want the world to be complicated. God, he even wanted his parents to be there. Just for a second. Just one smile more from the both of them. Shit, maybe he just wanted Takashi back. Maybe he wanted Takashi and Satsuki to share one more over-priced meal with him. He wanted to introduce them to Kaneki. He wanted to go on shitty double dates that were so _normal_ and safe and just . . .

Not this.

Because Kaneki was staring right back at him, and Hide knew he was thinking the exact same things. Blood was on both of their hands, now.

 _Run,_ he mouthed at him, desperately hoping Kaneki would flee. His suspicions were right: Suzuya and Kaneki knew each other. If Kaneki could implode, then Kaneki could explode. It was something Amon knew. That was why he wasn’t letting Suzuya fight. That’s why he was letting Kaneki run.

Let Kaneki be safe. Let him run home safe and let him wake up tomorrow morning completely _fine_ and for the love of God, don’t let him get hurt. Don’t let him die as well. Even if it meant Hide had to go back to the Washuu and suck up to them and let them do what they wanted, it was fine. Just don’t hurt Kaneki.

Kaneki ran, and Hide almost let out a sigh of relief.

There was a loud pop of a gunshot above them, sending a ripple through the ceiling. Hide snapped out of his trance and looked up, trying to see what was happening until he realised that _someone was on the roof and firing._ The others murmured behind them, and Hide moved towards Amon. He felt terrible for needing someone beside him right then, but Hide wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the leader act for.

There was a second bang, further off, and Hide thought it must have come from another group until Hide watched Kaneki pause in the middle of the road, staring dead ahead. Why stop? What was going through his head? The CCG was still here, Kaneki, _run_ —

Amon stiffened beside him at the same time Suzuya let out a low, impressed noise.

It took Hide a long second to process what happened. Kaneki fell back with a wet-sounding thud that carried across the vast space. Hide’s blood roared in his ears. He couldn’t hear the world around him. Kaneki had been shot. Kaneki had been _shot,_ oh God no—

His weight pitched forward, but Amon caught him. “You did well, Hide.”

Hide hadn’t done well. Hide hadn’t done well at all. He stared at the ground, vision blurring. He felt like he’d been dropped into the Artic ocean naked. Every nerve exploded and became numb. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

“He’s dead now. It’s fine.”

Suzuya giggled beside them, rising onto his toes. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

_Suzuya knew._

Hide looked back. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his suspicions had been right the whole time. Maybe Kaneki Ken was that little bit more impossible. Please. Please let it be true. Let Kaneki be completely impossible. Please.

Kaneki was motionless on the ground. Suzuya hummed, stepping forward. “I’m gonna go take a look.”

“Suzuya, don’t—” Amon started, but Hide was already following. He had to know. He had to know _now._ Kaneki, Kaneki, Kaneki, don’t die too. Please, not him too. _Not him too._

Then it was V’s turn. They melted out of the shadows, dark coats and large hats hiding their faces. Suzuya stopped, whistling, and Hide didn’t know what else to do other than stop behind him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be the one to confirm Kaneki was dead. It was scary. It was too _scary,_ Jesus _Christ_ —

They crept towards Kaneki, blocking his fallen form from Hide’s view. No. No, no _no._ Oh, God. Hide had no idea what to do. He had no idea at all. Shit. He wanted to run over to Kaneki and do some magic CPR and for _fuck’s_ sake let him be okay. But then he didn’t. Because what if he couldn’t do anything and he didn’t want to be there to know it. Oh, God. Oh God.

“He’s taking his time,” Suzuya mused casually. “I wonder how bad it is.”

If Suzuya believed it, it had to be real, right? Kaneki had to be fine. Kaneki had to be fine, Kaneki had to be _fine._

“You’re looking a little pale, Hide,” Suzuya sung, grinning angelically. “You seemed fine with killing all those guys before, though. Are you sick?”

Throwing up sounded like a great idea.

Suzuya clasped his hands behind his back, watching the scene unfold like it was a film. “Any second now.”

_What?_

“What?” Hide asked, his voice shaking. This was it. This was when he broke apart and nothing would fix the mess he’d make of himself. Shit. Fuck. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up _bad._

Suzuya’s look was haunting. With one hand he reached out, forming a finger gun and pressing it to Hide’s forehead.

“ _Bang,”_ he said.

 _Bang,_ went Kaneki’s gun, firing into the night sky above.

* * *

 

_Suzuya Rei. He was a boy with pale hair and red eyes. His smile was sweet, but his gaze was eerie. Not so long ago, Kaneki would have flinched under it and looked away._

_Not now._

_He lost track of how long he’d been trapped in the lab for, this time. He didn’t remember what he’d done. He didn’t remember why he’d done it. All he remembered was Jason above him, laughing and screaming to count. He remembered the pliers closing around his fingers and toes. He remembered the feeling of bare hands digging through his insides._

_Screaming and crying were growing old._

_It had taken two weeks for his arm to grow back, he remembered. Two whole weeks. He’d begged it not to so that he could be killed and cast aside and finally given peace, but it didn’t happen like that. No, Kanou’s experiments were all so successful, and the healthy limb grew right back._

_Kaneki entertained the thought of cutting it off. It felt wrong in every way. It felt foreign. It wasn’t his arm. It wasn’t his arm. It was foreign and made of disinfectant and injections and he hated it. He poked at the small bowl of food he’d been handed and wanted to hurl it against the wall. Let him waste away. Let him die. He was tired of it all._

_Small hands plucked the bowl away from in front of him and began to eat it quickly. Kaneki studied the pale hair dully. Suzuya Rei had come and sit opposite him for his food._

_Kaneki would not make any more friends to die._

_“Thank you for the food,” Suzuya sung, pushing the empty bowl back towards Kaneki. His gaze was odd, but Kaneki stared back out of compulsion. They had the same hollow eyes and faces. Suzuya smiled widely, and Kaneki realised they were not the same at all._

_“Just try going and dying in a hole,” Suzuya suggested. “That’s a better way to kill yourself.”_

_It took Kaneki a beat to realise that Suzuya was talking to him. The smaller boy hopped up and walked away, humming to himself._

_Maybe he was right, Kaneki thought. Maybe that’s the easier way to die._

_He didn’t see Suzuya again. He assumed he’d died like everyone else during the experiments._

* * *

 

“Where is he?” Akira stormed towards a wounded Houji who was leaning against the wall, gripping his wounded side. Akira didn’t care. She couldn’t care less about him. She’d been informed a group of ten Investigators headed out to look for a way to deal with the situation they’d left the rest of the squad in, but now that she was there, only five were present.

“Where is Takizawa Seidou?”

“Mado, calm down—”

She lunged for him, but a subordinate held her back. “Rank One, please calm down!”

She shook him off, storming forward and pulling Houji forward by the collar. “ _Where is he?”_

“We were ambushed,” Houji said, face pale and sweating. “By V. They got him. He’s dead, Mado.”

“You just _abandoned_ him?” she was screaming now, giving them away to the enemy but she was so _mad._ Takizawa Seidou was a fucking idiot but he deserved to be gone back for. He deserved to be found. He pissed her off every second of her life but he was her _friend._ “Where is he? Fuck you, I’ll find him. _I’ll find him, Houji._ ”

“Rank One Mado,” Houji’s voice was strained with the effort of staying upright. “I order you to remain with this group until we rendezvous with HQ.”

“What . . . ?” Akira’s arm shook so hard she had to throw him away, taking a step back to steady herself. “What? No, no . . . no, he could still be alive! He could still—”

“Endangering yourself for the sake of a critically injured Investigator is not honourable, Rank One. It’s _foolish._ Focus on getting this squad out alive. If he can be saved, he will be saved by the medic team that sweep this area afterwards.”

 _You’re kidding me._ Akira had served her whole life thinking that the CCG was the only good part of the world. Her mother, her father—everyone had been part of the CCG’s success. They had to be good. They had to be perfect.

They were sick.

This city was rotten to the core.

“I am not abandoning a fellow Investigator,” Akira snapped. She wanted to go. He _had_ to be alive and she wasn’t going to let him bleed to death alone somewhere and rot. Not today. Not ever.

But if she went alone, she would die. She was a single woman with a few guns. Logically speaking, the chances of her dying immediately were far higher than the chances of her finding Takizawa alive. And if she left, these people still alive could die as well. Calm down, Mado, calm down.

“How long until the helicopter arrives?” she asked, finding her rationality again. “We’ll use that to get out of here.”

“It should be any second.” Houji leaned on a subordinate. “I suggest you keep this squad in one piece.”

 _I’m coming, Seidou,_ she thought. _I’ll find you._

* * *

 

It felt as if Kaneki were breaking the surface of the water. Air flooded into his lungs and the icy touch that he’d been submerged in fell away around him. His head was pounding and he was blind. He was _blind._

His hand tightened around the gun. Around him he could hear people. How many? They were too calm-sounding and quiet to be the CCG. They couldn’t be Aogiri. It had to be V.

He raised the gun and fired blind into the sky. _Scatter,_ he wanted to scream. _Scatter._

It had the desired affect, and he felt the air shift. Sweat was pooling on his face, but no matter how much he blinked his vision wasn’t coming back. Was that normal? How long did it normally take? If the bullet hit his forehead and wet through, then it would have destroyed his occipital lobe. How bad was the damage? How long would it take? For whatever reason it had missed the cerebellum, so he could move, and the other parts had healed but . . . where was his vision?

_Sniper._

Of course. Only a bullet that large and that fast would do something like this. The hotspots he felt in his legs and torso reminded him where he was: the CCG. The wharf. The operation.

_“What’s the matter, Kaneki? Can’t see me?”_

No. No, this was different. This was _different._ He rolled to his side, trying to stand, holding the gun out in what he hoped was in front of him. He wasn’t underground. He wasn’t in that lab. He had no blindfold and he was _not_ strapped to a table anymore.

“Get him!” someone yelled, and Kaneki felt a foot connect with the back of his head. It felt like sparks were flying through his skull and he bit back a scream. Wet. He’d felt the splash of blood with the kick.

He fell forward, his face slamming into the concrete. Someone was pressing down his torso to the ground. Something was closing around his wrists. _No. No no no no no—_

_“Don’t know what I’m gonna do? That’s the beauty of it, Kaneki. See, Kanou wants me to test your body’s ability to break down pathogens, but he doesn’t need to know the approach.”_

_Something cold touched his leg, and Kaneki realised with a sickening feeling that it was moving. It was crawling up his leg and under his medical gown, and no matter how much he wriggled and jostled against the restraints, it wasn’t coming off._

_“That’s a centipede,” Jason laughed. Kaneki felt his hand grip his thigh and crushed it, but it didn’t hurt. Air stung at his bare skin as Jason lifted off the gown to try and get to the centipede, and Kaneki felt his nerves freeze over because he_ knew _that Jason was looking at every single fucking inch of him._

_“I’m going to put it in your ear, okay?” Jason plucked the bug away, and Kaneki’s heart thundered. Shit. No, no, please, no. Not this. Cut off his arm again but no, don’t put that thing in his ear—_

_“Please,” Kaneki begged at him, trapped in the dark. “Please don’t.”_

“Get fucked,” Kaneki growled, kicking out behind him. How many people were holding him down? Four? Five? Good luck.

He forced himself up, finally managing to get his knees underneath him to shake them off. He grabbed the first piece of fabric he felt and threw it down. There was a bang and he felt the familiar sting of a bullet going through his calf, but he didn’t care. Not here. Not now. _Not now._

He squinted, and for a second he saw dark, blurry snapshot of what was happening: V members making a grab for him, more than a few with guns outstretched and ready to fire, but he didn’t care. Beyond that. It was past them, that he saw that same face that made him feel ashamed to his bones.

_Hide._

After all he’d selfishly accepted from Hide, and this was all he had to give back. _This._ Himself. The monster under the bed. The alligator that followed you home. Kaneki Ken.

He was glad he couldn’t see it again.

More guns sounded, ringing through his ears, and he felt himself get punctured by their petite bullets again. His knee had been destroyed. A hard fix. Two V members grabbed each of his arms to keep him upright. He was in the dark again. Shit, everything was dark and he couldn’t see what was _coming._

His muscles screaming in protest, he flipped his legs up over his head and caught the V guards with his elbows, slamming what he hoped was their heads into the ground. His knee gave out, and he stumbled. Fuck. Fuck, _fuck—_

It all came back in a second of glare: the lights, the thumping of helicopter’s propellers cutting through the sky, the stench of blood and metal, the V members reaching out for him.

His knee would wait.

He reached for a knife and in one movement cut down the V member coming at him. Blood sprayed and burned against his skin, but he didn’t care. He had them in his sights, and he was angry. He was so fucking _angry._

“Come on,” he said, pulling out another knife. “I’m the one you came for, aren’t I?”

He watched them retreat slowly, melting back into the dark stains of their city. Was that it? All that fighting and once he was able to fight back properly they ran? Was that _it_?

He had to get away. He couldn’t bring himself to look Hide in the eye.

The chopper was above him, but he couldn’t run away fast enough. If he left it, his knee would heal wrong. Was this it? Was this where he finally got captured? Was this the end of the shitty ride he was strapped onto?

No, it wasn’t.

Aogiri were back.

They’d scattered, but they reunited and came running towards the last group of Investigators. Hide. _Hide._

“Don’t—” _Hide could die._ Hide and his human, healthy anatomy and healing could _die._ No. No, this wasn’t it. No. _No, no, no._

Screw his knee. He went running after them. It wasn’t over. It wasn’t over by a mile.

This was just the beginning.


	46. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Doing so would be abandoning everyone around him. It would mean letting other Rank Threes die. It would mean a betrayal of his comrades, wouldn’t it?
> 
> But if Kaneki were CCG, wouldn’t it be the same thing?
> 
> God, he hoped so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a toughie but like ... enjoy it.  
> thanks for reading :D

When Hide was a kid, he remembered his mother getting him to read fantasy epics such as _Lord of the Rings._ When he was older, he watched the movies in the Japanese dub. In those films, there was inevitably a scene where the two armies would converge and fight in a dramatic clash of swords and horses and musical numbers. Hide had always been riveted by those scenes. It was, of course, always accompanied by the protagonist’s army being far smaller in size and heroically defeating the enemy with a dramatic speech about strength and resolve, Hide knew, but it never ceased to amaze him.

Now it seemed like an overly cruel joke that Hide would find himself standing right in the middle of it all. Red Aogiri members were flooding towards them, rolling in like a huge wave of crimson fabric and pocketknives. Hide wished he’d kept his helmet, but he’d thrown it away while the group ran over to where Amon had called reinforcements for dealing with Kaneki.

_Kaneki._

Kaneki was hurt. He was hurt badly, Hide knew, and that took first priority. No one else was going to die or get captured or suffer any more than those who already had. He wasn’t letting someone else get hurt, _especially_ not Kaneki.

Kaneki had been hurt enough already.

“Here they come!” Suzuya laughed beside him, his hand full of knives already. Hide was in the front. Hide had no more bullets and he put himself in the _front_ what was _wrong_ with him? Shit. He glanced up, seeing how close they were and realised that crap, he was stuck there.

He should have taken Suzuya into the mix.

In a split second, six people were down. Hide watched in shock as Suzuya all but skipped on their shoulders, striking them down as he went in his chaotic, choreographed way. He carved a path through them as people fled around him, desperately trying to get away. A path. Suzuya was making a path.

Hide ran for it.

Tunnel-focusing in on Suzuya’s progress wasn’t a smart idea. Trying to see the familiar white head of hair was also a terrible decision, because the moment he looked away from the flighty Juuzou, he was suddenly in the thick of Aogiri alone and completely unarmed.

He was such an idiot.

Someone cried out behind him, and Hide made another mistake. Rank Threes who had followed him were busy fighting. Gunfire, Hide realised, was the popping sound he hadn’t paid attention to. How had he not? Guns were so fucking loud, and he hadn’t even heard them.

Why wasn’t he moving? He had so many things to do, he had to find Kaneki, he had to stop people getting hurt, he had to—

There was a spray of blood, and Hide realised with dread why he had stopped. He’d known. He’d known that as soon as he heard someone cry out, this was how it would end. This was how it _always_ ended but just like before, he hadn’t moved fast enough. He hadn’t moved at _all._

A knife was stabbed and ripped through the Investigator closest to him: a Rank Three. Hide knew his face, but not his name. He hadn’t bothered to learn it. He hadn’t tried at all, and in that second, Hide realised he’d never have the chance. He was dead. Everyone was going to be dead and he couldn’t move _fast_ enough—was it all going to be on him? Was this all his fault? Shit, it was. It was _all his fault_ despite all that shit he’d told himself he’d do for Takizawa—

The Rank Three was still alive.

Hide lunged forward, reaching out to the fallen man. He recognised his pale hair, his lanky frame. The wound in his neck was oozing blood, but Hide could help. Hide could stop him getting more hurt. No one else would die. _No one else would die._

An arm hooked over his neck without warning, but Hide was still too stunned to move. He had to move. He had to move, he had to move, he had to _move!_

He shoved the butt of his empty gun into the gut of the person who had caught him seconds before the knife came at his throat. He heard the sharp gasp behind him and grabbed the armed wrist, yanking it down and away from him, twisting to get the knife to fall. He’d learned this. He wasn’t powerless like before. He had a chance. He had a chance to _stop this_.

He jumped away from his attacker, towards the Rank Three, still gripping his empty rifle as a lifeline. The Aogiri member couldn’t have been much older than he was, clutching at what was probably a broken wrist at this stage and spitting curses Hide couldn’t hear. His heart was in his throat and head like a drum, drowning out anything logical he could have thought of. People were dying. People were dying around him, and there was only a fine line separating them.

“You little—” the man reached behind him to pull out a gun, but a black-clad leg kicked him away frighteningly hard. Despite the noise in his head, Hide head the sickening _crunch_ of his ribs shattering under a very familiar-looking boot.

_Kaneki._

“Get out of here,” Kaneki said, breathless, torn-up and bloody, gripping at his right knee with both hands. Hide glanced down at it and saw blood seeping through his fingers steadily. That was bad. That was a seriously bad injury. How was Kaneki even moving with that? Shit. Think, Nagachika, _think!_

The Rank Three, or Kaneki?

He couldn’t believe he had to choose.

He couldn’t believe he felt so bad about choosing Kaneki.

The list of what he needed to do compiled in his head. Doing so would be abandoning everyone around him. It would mean letting other Rank Threes die. It would mean a betrayal of his comrades, wouldn’t it?

But if Kaneki were CCG, wouldn’t it be the same thing?

God, he hoped so.

Hide dove forward, grabbing Kaneki by the collar of his shirt. “Pretend to fight me!”

“ _What_?”

“We’re being watched! Knock me down! I’ll explain as we go!”

Hide was grateful that Kaneki seemed to be able to react to instructions quickly. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kaneki jumped him. With the adrenaline running through him, Hide couldn’t even focus on the winding he felt. There was no air in his lungs and the fall was hardly graceful. No time. There was no time for this. They _had_ to get out of the chopper’s sights. It hovered above them, casting down a strobe light onto the field. There was no time at all.

“Sorry,” Kaneki breathed above him. “What now?”

“Shake my by the collar,” Hide ordered, “and pretend you’re trying to smash my head in.”

Hide saw the visible wince, but Kaneki did as he was told. Good. This was good. Even though the movement was nauseating at the best of times and Hide was scared he’d bite off his own tongue, it was a start.

“Gonna pistol-whip you,” Hide warned. “Think fast.”

Hide had never intended to actually hit Kaneki. His plan had been to swipe the top of Kaneki’s head and hope that the other had the sense to act it out. He was already swinging with enough force to properly concuss someone when doubt flashed in Kaneki’s eyes and he jerked his head back, taking the gun directly to the temple.

“Kaneki!” Hide cried as the wounded receiver fell to the side. “Oi, are you okay?”

“Pretend you’re gonna shoot me in the throat,” Kaneki joined in. “On the lap. Now.”

Hide didn’t have time to wonder. He did as he was told, pressing the gun down against Kaneki’s grimey throat, under which Hide could still see the striping of scars. ”It’s not loaded,” he told him, but Kaneki didn’t seem to care. His gaze was more than imploring; it was panicked.

“Didn’t think so.” Kaneki grabbed at the nose of the gun, pretending to try and force it away. “Get the other arm like you’re holding me down.”

Hide shoved Kaneki’s hand under his knee, trapping it. This gave them a few seconds with the chaos around them. Hide felt like he was sinking into Kaneki’s dimension: no one seemed to notice them on the ground, as if they were ghosts.

He knew that wasn’t the case, because the helicopter was still seeing everything. They had to make it believable. It had to look _real,_ or they’d both get caught.

“What now?” Kaneki asked, looking to the side.

“Throw me off towards . . .” Hide gave as surreptitious a glance as he could around. The closest form of cover was a forklift garage, some thirty or so metres away. That was a lot of distance to cover in a one-on-one fight, but . . .

_Think, Hide!_

“We need to get to that garage,” Hide told him. His voice was shaking, he realised. Everything was shaking with panic. Shit. His ideas were like wheels spinning on quicksand: stuck. “Throw me over there, and then . . . you go.”

“Got it.” Kaneki swallowed. “Sorry in advance.”

Hide was about to ask what for when Kaneki tore his other hand free from under Hide’s knee and used both to slam the gun back into Hide’s chest, pushing him back enough for Kaneki to free his legs from under him and kick him a solid five metres along the ground. The concrete tore through the fabric of his sleeves, and Hide was sure he was going to have great scabs afterwards.

_Afterwards. Don’t get ahead of yourself yet._

He rolled to his knees, leaning on the gun that had _fucking_ hurt his ribs. Maybe one was broken. Crap. He forced himself to his feet, struggling to breathe in as he watched Kaneki do the same laborious movement, gripping his bad leg all the while. Hide caught a glimpse of white bone beneath the sheer amount of blood. Shit, that was a bad injury.

“Okay,” Kaneki revealed a gun. “Pretend to back away, got it? That should give us ten believable metres.”

It wasn’t hard to pretend that the gun threatened him: staring down the barrel of someone else’s gun would _never_ be a comfortable experience. He backed away slowly, every muscle burning from the countless blows he’d already received and his lungs on fire with the aftermath of Kaneki’s gun manoeuvre. It didn’t matter. Not yet. It wouldn’t matter until it was over.

“Do I charge you?” Hide yelled. The chopper came closer towards them, and Hide all but tasted his heart on his tongue, pushing against the back of his throat. He wanted to throw up so badly. Not yet. _Not yet._

“I’m empty,” Kaneki yelled back, taking another step forward. “You charge me when you realise that, yeah?”

“Got it,” Hide quipped, waiting for the soft _click_ sound of an empty barrel. When he heard it, he ran at Kaneki, who in turn cast aside the gun and ripped out a knife. Kaneki, far better at knocking people down, ended up on top. Hide managed to wedge a foot under his shoulder in time. Kaneki was moving slowly, Hide knew. Slowly to give him the time to react on his own. Thank God.

“I’ll kick you off,” he told Kaneki. “Then roll in the direction of the shed. How far are we?”

“Still pretty far,” Kaneki looked like he was getting more wrecked by the impending sense of doom by the second. Hide tried to swallow but his mouth was completely dry. He probably looked the same way.

“I have another gun,” Kaneki told him. “It has bullets.”

“Okay,” Hide said, trying to speak at the same speed as his thoughts. “Fire at the ground. I’ll run to the building for shelter, but you’ve gotta catch me a few metres short. Then grapple towards the building. Go.”

Not waiting for a response, Hide kicked up at Kaneki’s shoulder, rolling away like he’d said. Kaneki was back on his feet, and Hide had to drag himself up. They were close. They were so close. He could—

The bullet hit the ground beside his feet, and he realised he’s paused. Kaneki was silent, but his injured leg shook. They didn’t have time for a hesitation. Hide knew the severity of that bung knee could make it give way at any second. They had no time at all.

_Fuck._

He turned and ran towards safety. He hoped that it looked like he was running from Kaneki, because God, he wanted that building. Once he had a roof over their heads, maybe he could calm down a little. A _little._ Every step felt like he was on a tightrope, swaying dangerously. On either side was a yawning chasm: death, or being discovered by the CCG. Shit. Did the shed have to be _that_ far? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

A bullet cut dangerously close to his leg, and he jumped away. They were still to far. Run, Hide, _run!_

Nearly there. Every cell in his body burned, but he was nearly there. Nearly there, god fucking dammit. There was a way. They could do this.

Ten metres. Five metres.

He forgot he’d told Kaneki to tackle him.

He fell hard, chest, chin and elbows slamming against the concrete loud enough for him to spit a curse. Kaneki’s weight was pushing him down, and Hide had to think. He’d been told how to get out of being pinned. How? Shit.

_“Turn and crunch, numbskull!” his instructor yelled. “Honestly. In real life, the idea that he has his feet tucked under you is improbable, which means you just need to centre one leg and roll. Get the space and get the fuck out.”_

It was amazing how bad he did in school and how lucky he was to remember it.

“Hide, do you—”

He cut Kaneki off by doing what he’d been taught: free one leg. Kick it up in the air and then centre it. Use it to turn and drag all your limbs into a ball. From there he could grab Kaneki’s shoulder and roll on top of him.

“Shake me off, quick!” Hide snapped before he was fully balanced, and Kaneki took his chance. He grabbed Hide’s wrists and pulled them forward, throwing Hide forward before he twisted his arms together and threw his weight to the side, kicking him over.

Hide would never win in a fight against Kaneki and he knew it.

Warmth seeped into his side, and Hide realised Kaneki had done it all with his bad knee.

“What now?” Kaneki asked, lost. The chopper had passed to the other side of the wharf, Hide noticed with relief, but it still wasn’t safe. What now?

“Drag me,” Hide suggested. “Like you’re angry or something. Think Freddie Kruger.”

“Okay.” Kaneki stood, and Hide decided not to mention the splutter of blood that came with it. How was he doing it? Looking at it made Hide wince. It needed hospital treatment at least, but how would that work when Kaneki was . . . Kaneki?

They were so close to being safe enough to talk about it. Hide felt Kaneki grab him by the back of the collar and drag him along. Five metres. Five fucking metres to safety. Come on, come on, come on!

“What now?” Kaneki was still moving, thank God, but Hide didn’t know the answer either. “Hide, what do we do now?”

“Improvise?” Hide was out of ideas. Completely out of ideas. “Try and think of a way to open the door of the garage.”

Kaneki stopped. Shit. Shit, shit, _shit._ What now?

“It’s locked.”

Hide could have screamed.

“Do you have any more bullets?” Hide twisted in Kaneki’s grip. He glanced around, looking for the chopper. It hadn’t come back yet, but that didn’t matter. There were bound to be security cameras that would be recording them. Cameras that the CCG would be watching through. Crap. _Think, Hide!_

There was a painful silence that Hide could all but feel a scream tearing its way up his throat. Not this. Not here. Fuck. Fuck. _SHIT._

Because he knew the answer.

“No,” Kaneki said through teeth. “I’m out.”

He needed to think. He needed to think _hard._

Hide tried to stand on shaky legs. Kaneki pulled him to his feet, but it didn’t help. “Pretend to smack me onto the wall,” he said quickly. This would give them time. They had to get inside because Kaneki’s knee was getting more torn up by the second, and Hide wasn’t sure how long he could keep this going. They were so fucking _close_ and now _this?_ Shit. Shit _shit._

“Fuck,” he cursed, slamming his head back against the steel wall. “Fuck, what now? Can you kick it open?”

“I can try,” Kaneki offered, but there was doubt. All the panicking and improvising to get to this point, Hide cursed, and now this. He couldn’t get over it. Was this all a joke? Was everyone he cared about _destined_ to die painfully? Was he destined to ruin everyone’s lives?

No, he told himself. He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t, because he had the brains to think of a way out. Brains that he _needed right now._

A knife.

“Do you think you can cut the handle off?” Hide felt the idea springing to mind. They had to be quick, because now he could see the chopper coming back. “Try. Get the handle off and explain to me what it looks like.” _Thank God he knew how locks worked._

“Yeah.” There was a quick movement and a metallic squealing sound. Hide felt the metal doorhandle hit his leg as it fell. They were one step closer now.

“What does it look like?”

“The lock’s separate to the handle,” Kaneki said quickly. “Hide, I don’t know what to do.”

“There should be a metal bar that runs through the hole it made,” Hide said quickly, desperate to tell him fast enough. The chopper was _coming._ “That connects to one of the things holding the door closed. If you break that, you might be able to kick it down.”

Hide knew that Kaneki was moving as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Any second. The chopper, if it looked their way, would see them. “Any time today, Kaneki!”

Kaneki cursed, and kicked the door. There was a moment where Hide was perfectly ready to just scream. Just _scream._

Then the door gave way, and they tumbled into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: i know f all about locks pls dont hate me i was spewing bullshit 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! New chapter soon ^-^ 
> 
> Also THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for the response to these last few chapters! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying how things are going and I'm so grateful to you all :D


	47. Feels Like We Only Go Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The tightness hadn’t left his chest. It felt like he was teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t fathom. They had to be faster. They couldn’t afford to be as slow as this. It would come any second. Any second, the CCG would come, or the chopper would see them, and Kaneki would get carted away because with an injury like that he couldn’t—he shouldn’t fight. Crap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT ME
> 
> You wanna know how many times I re-wrote this? 6 times. 6 friggin times oh my GOD. But I guess I'm pleased with Draft 6 so please enjoy it xP

“Hide? Hide, are you okay?” Kaneki was above him, Hide realised groggily, blinking the pain out of his head. He must have blacked out for a second there, smashing his head on the ground.

He couldn’t see that well save for the faintest outline of Kaneki’s shape and the ever-present glow of his hair in the dark. The bright white strobe light from the chopper passed by the open door, and Hide caught a glimpse of Kaneki’s worried face.

Kaneki kicked the door shut behind them quickly, and Hide heard his ragged breathing in the dark. He tried to breathe away the tension in his chest, but it remained there, pressing down on his lungs with every passing second. They weren’t safe yet.

“Can you help me up?” Hide grabbed a fist of Kaneki’s jumper, and the smaller boy helped him to sit upright. The movement made throwing up sounded like a dream right then.

“Hide, are you okay? You hit your head when you fell, it’s—”

“Worry about yourself first,” Hide gave his head a solid pat, swallowing the taste of bile in his throat. He left his hand on Kaneki's head, leaning against it to help him stand. “Is there a light switch?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” Hide heard Kaneki shuffle around, and he reached the wall, palming blindly for a switch of anything. He heard something akin to dripping and he spun around, realising it was Kaneki’s knee.

“Kaneki,” he said slowly, “you just sit down, okay? I’ll be fine. You chill out.”

“You’re hurt too,” Kaneki said. “You sit.”

“Now’s not the time for an argument, Kaneki. This is—”

There was a metallic _thump,_ and Hide squinted, seeing the hovering head of white in the dark. Kaneki had joined him in his search for the light switch, it seemed. Okay. They had to find it fast, then.

“Doesn’t your gun have a torch on it?” Kaneki tried, brushing Hide’s arm. Hide took his hand and squeezed it, noting with discomfort the sheer amount of blood on it.

“I lost it out there somewhere,” he shrugged. The tightness hadn’t left his chest. It felt like he was teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t fathom. They had to be faster. They couldn’t afford to be as slow as this. It would come any second. Any second, the CCG would come, or the chopper would see them, and Kaneki would get carted away because with an injury like that he couldn’t—he _shouldn’t_ fight with it. Crap.

“Found it.” The plastic square was dusted with silt and cobwebs. He moved his hand down and flicked the switch, causing a hum to break the silence and the lights flicker for a second before they came on with a blast of white light. Hide squeezed his eyes shut, wincing at the sudden assault on his poor eyeballs.

“You’re bleeding.” Kaneki was behind him in an instant, hands carding through his hair. “Shit. I’m sorry. It’s—”

“I pistol-whipped you,” Hide protested, turning. He rubbed at Kaneki’s face, trying to smooth out the guilt in his expression and looked at the spot on his temple where he’d hit him. There wasn’t even a lump. “It must have hurt. We’re even, okay? Good.”

Kaneki looked only a little bit lost.

“You need to sit down,” Hide told him sternly. “Your knee is bad, and it needs First Aid. I get that our options are limited, so bear with me, okay? We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll look with you.” Kaneki gripped onto Hide’s shirt. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

“It doesn’t matter how bad you’ve had,” Hide insisted. “This is how bad it is _now,_ and you need to stop it getting worse. We probably tore it up with that show out there.” He directed Kaneki to the arms of the closest forklift, sitting him on the raised bar. “I’ll be right back.”

Hide jogged a few steps and instantly regretted it, slowing to a walk to try and calm the nausea it awoke. His ribs burned with the movement, and Hide gripped at his side as he moved down the neatly-parked forklifts towards the main entrance of the garage with a motorised door. Along the left wall were helmets and lockers, and to the right was a door that led a small common area with a kitchen. Hide panicked for a second before he realised that shutters were drawn on every window. No one would see the light.

He looked around, shoving Tupperware aside and old coffee mugs as he looked for the First Aid Kit. His search led him past an old table and couch to the bathroom, where at last he found the bright red box, somewhat old and discoloured around the edges.

Hide closed the door behind him and hurried back to Kaneki. He had to keep his head. He had to keep calm. Right now, no one knew they were in there except the chopper, which had moved towards the other side of the wharf. All they had to worry about was the commotion outside, peppered with gunshots and shouts that Hide steeled himself against. He wouldn't freak out yet.

Panting and gripping what he suspected was a broken rib, he dropped to his knees in front of Kaneki, lifting his bad leg and resting the foot on his thigh. If Hide weren’t high on adrenaline, he probably would have properly thrown up at the sight.

“I’m sorry it looks so bad,” Kaneki said. “You don’t need to—”

“Shh, let me look after you, okay?” Hide said breathlessly, patting at his leg. He popped open the First Aid kit, pulling out the medical-grade scissors to cut away the blood-soaked denim around his knee. Hide didn’t know why it unsettled him so much, he’d gone to the anatomy lab many times by now and had many practicals on real human corpses. He knew how to objectively look at a human body. He should have been fine.

But Kaneki was very alive, and he very much needed his knee. His body was also thirty-seven degrees warmer than the bodies he was used to.

 _I can’t fix it._ The words were on the tip of his tongue, tasting like acid as he worked to delicately cut the fabric away. He should have been using the gloves provided, but he wasn’t sure how he’d hide the evidence or take the time to put them on.

Hide gave a brief examination of the state of the wound: from what he could see, a bullet had blasted the joint to smithereens, destroying the patella and barrelling right through the join between the femur and tibia. The crucial tendons that held the joint together and enabled movements were probably blown to pieces, because Hide saw no evidence of them where he was looking. He could see the stark whiteness of the femur in the tissue, and what he guessed was a shard of kneecap hanging to a thread of a ligament. Shit. Shit. This needed a hospital. This needed _surgery._

There was only one problem: Kaneki couldn’t go to a hospital. He couldn’t go anywhere that could properly treat this. Shit. First Aid was a temporary fix to a _very_ serious problem, and he wasn’t sure how much he would help at all. Even if Kaneki’s healing _was_ more advanced than normal. Even if he could—

“Kaneki,” Hide said slowly, looking up at him, “how long will it take to heal this?”

Kaneki’s breathing hitched, and he looked away, the colour leaving his face. Shit. Hide had definitely hit a bad nerve. He opened his mouth to apologise but Kaneki cut him off.

“An hour,” he said, worrying at the hem of his jacket. “Maybe more. The bullet didn’t go through, so it’ll heal faster.”

Hide bit back the curse. The bullet was still in the joint, probably grating lead through Kaneki’s bloodstream as they spoke. Shit. _Shit._

“Can I leave it to you to get the bullet out?” Hide asked, trying to be as gentle as he could despite his rising nerves as he heard the familiar roar of the chopper coming closer. “I—We don’t have the time to do it now,” he continued, “or any painkillers, or anything. I’ll fix it for now, okay? Kaneki, look at me. It’s fine. You get home, you do your thing, and then we do what we do. It’ll be fine. It _will._ ”

Hide hoped the silver of Kaneki’s eyes wasn’t a mirror reflecting the gauntness in his face, but it probably was. Cold sweat was beading on the back of his neck, and the chopper made a pass over the top of them. Kaneki chewed on his lip in silence, nodding. “Okay.”

Hide almost sighed with relief, but buried it down in working. He needed a dressing, a bandage, some saline solution and a _lot_ of talking. He could do this. He’d learned First Aid, and luckily that wasn’t a hard thing to stick with.

He popped one of the saline bottles off the packet and held Kaneki’s ankle, warning him, “this is going to sting, okay? It’s disinfectant. Tell me if it hurts.” Kaneki nodded in reply, and Hide worked quickly to squirt the water in the wound, brushing away the dirt and grime the open flesh had accumulated in their fight. Clearing away the clotting blood barely helped, because it only helped dishearten Hide as he saw how bad it was.

The bottle ran out and he tossed it aside, ripping open a gauze pad and slowly pressing it against the wound. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kaneki said tensely, and Hide pat his other leg.

“You’re doing great. Just a bandage to go, okay?” He tore open the packet and held the clip in his teeth, slowly unwinding the gauze in a figure-eight shape around his knee, pulling as tight as he dared. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said around the clip in his teeth. Kaneki only nodded, and Hide noticed that he hadn’t really heard Kaneki breathe during the entire process.

He fastened the clip onto the bandage, careful to keep it away from the open wound, several layers of gauze below. He looked back up, studying Kaneki’s pale face. “I’m done,” Hide told him, giving as best a smile as he could. “You can breathe now.”

Kaneki nodded, still silent. Hide sighed, rolling his shoulder. The adrenaline was fading, but his nerves were about to fry. _Any_ second now, something would happen. They’d spent nearly ten minutes in relative safety, something Hide was growing more paranoid about. People should be coming. Any second now, someone should see them. That was how it worked, right?

“I’ll tape it down as well, I think,” Hide pulled out the roll of brown muscle tape, unwinding a section and wrapping it in the same figure-eight shape. “Now it won’t come off when you go swimming.”

“Swimming?”

The sound of his voice, incredulous and still able to be completely _done_ with him despite the situation, was more than enough to make him grin. “How else are you going to escape?”

“Escape?” Hide’s smile fell when he realised that it had never been on Kaneki’s cards. “I can’t leave yet—I have— _you_ need to leave.” Kaneki lifted his leg off Hide’s and stood, testing the strength of the bandage. “You need to run.”

“You’re going back out there?” Hide shook his head, standing as well. “I don’t care what deals you’ve done or what you think you have to do, Kaneki, but please just _go home._ ”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Kaneki stared at his feet, before running an anxious hand through his hair. “It’s more—no, I’m not explaining this. You need to get out of here _now._ ”

“Kaneki, I’m no magician.” Hide gripped his shoulders, probably too roughly. The idea that Kaneki was going back out into that _shitstorm_ with a patch-up job on his knee was mortifying. “That dressing is First Aid for a reason. You need to go home and fix it properly, okay?”

Hide watched Kaneki breathe slowly, before he shook his head. “No. It’ll be fine. It heals.”

 _“_ Kaneki—”

 _“It always heals!”_ Kaneki yelled, gripping onto Hide’s shirt. His hands were shaking. “It doesn’t matter how much I break it, it always heals. I could shoot it again and it would heal. It’s fine. It’s _fine._ ” He glared up, ready to scream the heavens down about it.

Hide pulled him against him, wrapping his arms over Kaneki’s smaller shoulders. “I know you will,” he said into his hair. “Of course you will. But just this time, call it a day. You don’t need to suffer through it anymore.”

They tensed as the chopper came past again, breathing a sigh of relief when it faded away. The noise outside was growing fainter, Hide realised. If they waited too long, Kaneki wouldn’t be able to escape. They had to move. They had to move fast.

“You have to get out of here,” Hide told him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. Be logical, he wanted to tell himself. Their time had run out. Kaneki had to leave _now._

Kaneki exhaled against him, before speaking into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll go, but only if . . . only if you . . .”

“What?” Hide, inwardly sighing with regret, separated them. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Come find me afterwards,” Kaneki said. His eyes were large and imploring, a shock of silver against the dirt-stained skin and blood-matted hair. “I’ll leave if you come and find me later.”

Hide blinked, his words sinking in. Then he grinned, letting out a breathy laugh.

“What?” Kaneki gripped onto his shoulders. “Are you okay? Are you concussed?”

“I was going to anyway,” Hide said, wheezing breathlessly before his ribs stabbed at him. “Come find you, I mean. You think I’m going to leave you alone after all this effort?”

Kaneki looked so surprised that Hide began to get worried. “Was that pistol-whip before too hard? Are you okay, Kaneki? Yikes. Here, let me look at your head again—”

“No, no, that’s already healed,” Kaneki had the smallest of smiles on his pale lips. “Thanks.”

Hide, unthinking, pressed his mouth against Kaneki’s. “You’re welcome.”

The chopper passed over them, far lower this time, causing the walls of the garage to shake. Hide pushed him away. “Okay. Time to go.”

“Y-yeah— _Wait._ ” Kaneki stopped, face instantly reverting to its chalk-white state. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When they watch the footage,” Kaneki said, rubbing his chin in worry, “they’ll know we got here. What will you tell them?”

The calmness Hide had managed to get shattered to pieces and slipped through his fingers like sand. _Fuck._ He hadn’t thought about that at all. Sure, he was bruised up enough to tell them they’d fought, but what then? Shit. They’d used up all of their time as well. Crap. _Crap._

“I know what to do,” Kaneki said suddenly. Hide watched in growing horror as Kaneki bit down on his tongue hard enough to bleed.

“ _Kaneki—”_

“Don’t swallow,” he ordered, pulling Hide’s head down towards him quickly, hooking a finger over his bottom teeth. Blood filled his mouth and Hide coughed, pulling away, but Kaneki yanked him back quickly with his hand, coating his entire mouth in it until it dribbled over his chin and down his neck.

“That’ll do,” Kaneki released him, wiping the blood on the back of his hand. “You know what that is, right?”

Hide was still coughing on Kaneki’s blood, eyes watering, but he nodded: The Binge Eater. It was something Kaneki was known for. Something Hide had seen him do. It was a good story. Now there was only one problem: why they had been in there so long.

“It’s not enough,” Hide winced, doubtfully swallowing a mouth of blood-infused saliva. “It’s good, but we need more.”

“Like what?” Kaneki’s tongue wasn’t bleeding anymore, Hide realised. The fighting was growing either dangerously quiet or the blood was pumping to loudly in Hide’s skull, and Hide stopped himself before he started gushing about how amazing it was.

“Can I have your cleanest knife?” Hide bent down, looking at the array of weaponry Kaneki carried. “Preferably one with no blood.”

“What are you planning?” Kaneki reached around behind him and pulled out an unused knife. “Hide, don’t be dumb.”

Its weight was heavier than Hide expected in his hand, but it looked deadly sharp. It had to be, Hide supposed. The scene was clear in his head: the CCG believed that Kaneki was some sort of sub-human, violent _creature_ that would believably bite someone’s tongue out. The only problem with their current story was that there was no way to say Hide had been in a position to allow such an act. He needed a cut. A mark. An injury in a place that Hide would never move against, that would allow the stereotypical 'villain chat' that would waste the minutes they'd spent in there.

A place like his throat.

“You’re right-handed, aren’t you?” Hide asked Kaneki, who nodded quickly. It wasn’t that Hide didn’t believe in his plan, but the possibility of accidentally being a fucking idiot and killing himself was an option. Just a surface cut, he told himself. Just a surface cut.

He flipped the blade so it was pointing towards him, then raised it to the left side of his throat.

 _“No.”_ Kaneki snatched the blade out of his fingers. “Hide, no. That’s enough. You could kill yourself like that!”

“You know it isn’t,” Hide reminded him. “It’ll be fine. I can use a blade.”

“Hide, _no_.”

Hide took the wrist holding the knife and spoke quickly. “We don’t have time right now, Kaneki. You do it, okay? You know how to _not_ kill me, right?”

“I’m not doing it.”

 _“Kaneki._ ” Hide hated the demand in his tone. “Not now, okay? I trust you with this. I also don’t want to get sprung, because _no one_ is going to believe me without this. If I get caught . . .” guilt began to form in his gut. He couldn’t believe he was planning on pulling something like this on Kaneki. “If I get caught, I won’t be able to come and find you afterwards.”

Hide knew he’d won the argument, but felt so _guilty_.

Kaneki brooded for a second longer before he nodded, jaw tense. He put the knife between his teeth as he angled Hide’s head back, exposing his throat. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Hide studied the ceiling of the garage when he felt the cold steel press against his skin. He fought the urge to jump away as Kaneki slowly pressed it down harder on the left side of his throat until it stung. Hide breathed out slowly, trying to stay as still as possible. Kaneki added a little more weight to the knife before he dragged it across his throat, careful to avoid the pulse Hide could feel in his neck.

Kaneki removed the knife quickly, wiping it on his pants. “Okay. Okay, you’re done. Shit. You’re going to get a scar from that, Hide, _shit_ —”

“Thank you,” Hide cut him off, giving him another peck on the lips. “Now fucking run away, kiddo. The best bet you have is swimming until you get past the police barrier. Is your knee okay? Do you need another bandage? Is it—”

“You get out too.” Kaneki’s hands were cool on his cheeks as he stared up at him. “Please. Please be okay.”

“It takes a lot to kill an idiot,” Hide gave him as reassuring a smile as he could manage. “You take the wrappers from First Aid and dump them in the water. I’ll put this back. They’ll never know we were in here.”

“Okay.” Kaneki scooped up the stray packaging on the ground, shoving them into a pocket. “Um . . .”

 _Run,_ Hide wanted to tell him. Outside, he heard the chopper coming back, flying even lower. What if it was landing? _Was_ it landing? Shit. Shit. _Shit._

“Go!” Hide ushered him away. “Go, go, go!”

Kaneki nodded tensely. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Hide promised him. “I will.”

Kaneki gave him a parting smile before he inched the door open and sprinted out of it.

 _Don’t let me lose him too,_ Hide prayed. _Not him too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ... I hope you liked it!  
> at last a chance to show off my medical knowledge /pats self on back
> 
> Thank you so much, as always, for reading! I feel like this arc has gone on forever hnnnng BUT we're near the end of it! (or are we ...)  
> Anyways, I really appreciate the fact that you guys read this and leave comments and just aaaaah, you guys are the reason I love to write this story. I can't thank you all enough :D


	48. Native Puppy Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i confess:
> 
> I don't really like how it turned out ... i feel like the mood is all over the place and the pacing is wrong and all manner of shit BUT the general gist came across (I hope).
> 
> Maybe if I have time i'll redo it, but I don't really have that kind of time right now and I wanted to get this chapter up so we could move on.
> 
> Please enjoy it nonetheless!

Akira’s knuckles were white as she gripped onto the edges of the foil shock blanket. The wind, fresh and crisp off the water bit at the exposed skin of her face, which had cooled rapidly now that she wasn’t running for her life and the icy claw of reality had settled on the eight-ounce weight in her chest. She had searched every station, asked every superior for permission to search, screamed at every argument, but had been ordered not to move.

She wondered if it was all fake. Was everyone around her an actor, playing a role to shape her life? Was this all a scam on her? Was Takizawa actually fine, just retired from this ploy? Or had he been killed on purpose? Was fate real?

Was it her fault?

The only thing that kept her grounded were orders. _Stay. Don’t move. You’re dismissed._ Orders were absolute. She had to stay there. She was an Investigator, she was competent, she was _Mado Akira_ —

Seidou had deserved so much better than this.

Who was wrong? Were her personal feelings wrong? Were the orders wrong? Was the CCG wrong? God, was Takizawa wrong for dying?

She didn’t know. She just didn’t know anymore.

“Akira!”

She glanced up, looking through the throngs of bustling CCG workers to find the source of the voice. It was familiar. It was someone she knew and they’d be seeing her like this? No. No, they couldn’t.

Quickly she stood, throwing down the foil blanket as the owner of the voice came into view: a very dishevelled looking and bloody Hide.

For a second, she didn’t recognise him.

His CCG shirt and vest had been removed, replaced with what she assumed was a general-issue shirt. He’d probably been injured beneath it. A bandage had been wrapped around his head, and a dressing pressed against his throat that was already stained red with blood. Even though his face had been wiped clean, a long trail of crusted blood had dried down his throat. She also noticed the childish-looking band-aid on his chin. Nagachika was okay. He was alive.

One less man to worry about.

“Akira!” he called again, half-jogging over. “You’re okay! Is . . . um, is Seidou here? I’ve been looking for him, but like, no one’s seen him. So are you—”

“He’s dead,” Akira cut him off before he could say more. She wanted to crawl back under the safety of that useless, shameful foil blanket. She wanted to crawl back into herself. She didn’t want any of this at all. It was her own doing, she decided, becoming so close to others. Cut it down now. She didn’t want this again. She didn’t—

“Are you sure?” Hide’s voice wasn’t as heartbroken or hurt as she expected. If anything, he looked completely sceptical. “Are you absolutely sure, Akira?”

“Where else would he be?” she growled. “Go home, Nagachika. People die.”

“I don’t think he’s dead, Akira.” Hide’s tone was resolute. “When I ran into Houji squad, they’d told me he’d left with the advance group. He’s not in the dead, Akira. He could still be alive.”

“You’ve been ordered to go home.” The idea of looking desperately in the dropping temperature, hopeless and clinging to futile beliefs was counter-productive and pathetic. It was. Orders were orders. Disobeying them to find a corpse . . . disobeying them to find a friend’s body . . .

“Just go home,” she told him angrily. “Leave it.”

Without warning, Hide reached out and grabbed at her elbow. “Let’s look for him.”

“Let go of me, Nagachika.”

“No.”

Akira’s protest died in her throat as she took him in properly. Close up, she could see how injured he’d become. Any other man would have gone home by now, but no matter what kind of split lip or broken ribs Hide had, there was something profoundly different about him to the Part-Timer from months ago. Maybe it was the steel in his spine or the way grief had set his jaw, but she didn’t have the heart to fight him.

“You can’t disobey orders,” she muttered, pathetically weak to her own ears. “Just go home, Hide.”

“Fuck the orders!” Hide cried, throwing his bandaged arms out. “Just this once. One time, Akira. Please. Isn’t there something weird about this? Can’t you feel it? Your intuition is perfect, isn’t it?”

“No.” Akira numbed herself to Hide’s pleas. Her intuition had took a seat. It had gone hom for the day. Her friend was dead and she didn’t have the energy for the world. Oh, God. Her friend was _dead._

“A lot of bodies are unaccounted for,” Hide continued, stubborn as ever. “Come on. I’ll take the blame.”

“No.”

“Okay, Akira.” Hide regarded her sternly, holding up a finger as if to scold her. “I’ll tell you what I think: V or Aogiri, whichever it was, have been taking injured investigators. I don’t know why or how, but I think they have.” There was something he wasn’t telling her, and Akira knew it instantly. Something on the end of that sentence that he had left off. What was it?

“You’re curious,” Hide said, grinning. “Come with me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Hide, Takizawa is—”

“He’s not dead.” Hide’s tone was certain. “Akira, I know he’s not dead.”

“You can’t.” Akira wanted to deny the hope rapidly growing in her. She shouldn’t hope. She couldn’t. It would be crushed to pieces and she would fall. “You can’t know.”

He winked at her. “It’s my intuition.”

* * *

 

Akira regretted the decision instantly.

Working their way in between buildings, she expected shots to ring out at any given second. Both of them were unarmed, and Hide didn’t even bring a jacket to combat the cold. His face was bright red with frost, and he couldn’t hide how his hands shook.

“Idiot,” she scolded him. “You’ll get sick.”

“Tomorrow’s a day off anyway,” he waved her away. “It is, right?”

“I’m not coming,” she declared. “Amon can bite me for all I care.”

Hide laughed, a hearty sound bouncing off the multitude of steel around them. The paths they had taken had been mostly barren except for the occasional Aogiri corpse that she swallowed and walked past. The body-gatherers had yet to come by and collect the corpses, zipping them into their ominous black bags and carting them off to grieving families or autopsy rooms.

She wondered how Hide did it. His smile had yet to falter, and his stride was still confident, albeit hunched over and pained, as she saw him grip at his side every now and then. Broken ribs, she assumed.

They came to a clearing, and Akira froze, seeing the ground littered with CCG corpses. All of them had the single stripe to their insignia: Rank Threes.

In front of her, Hide shoved his hands into his pockets, also pausing. She walked up beside him, trying to offer comfort, but she found herself unable to read his face. He chewed on his lip for a second, before giving her a toothy grin. “Let’s keep going, yeah?”

Akira had no words to offer when he continued.

They walked by a shed dotted with bullet holes, and Hide paused, breathing out a pale wisp of body-warmed air. “This is where I was,” he said, turning towards her. “Apparently they headed down. Where did you meet them?”

“I came from the other side,” she said. “I guess if we go down the route from this side, we’ll find where they would have passed.”

“Yeah,” Hide agreed. “And if he’s dead, his body will be here, won’t it?”

“It will,” she said, “Assuming he’s dead—which you don’t believe.”

“Oh, you believe me too, don’t deny it.” Hide smiled, but for an instant it wasn’t the bright, happy smile of Nagachika. For a second, she could have thought it was fake and tired. Why wouldn’t it be? It was amazing he could keep going like this. It was really, truly amazing.

But it was pointless.

“Don’t destroy yourself over the dead,” she told him gravelly. “You don’t need to die as well, Hide.”

She wondered when she had started calling him by his first name.

“It takes a lot to kill an idiot,” Hide assured her, grinning widely again. “I’m pretty confident in our chances. Besides, I am 90 per cent sure our friend is alive.”

“Are you on pain meds?” Akira was suspicious of his good humour at this point. They were walking down the small roadway between the main warehouse and a storage shed, which had grown suddenly very empty. Beside her, Hide shrugged.

“Just the green whistle.”

They continued down the path, before turning right. Akira gulped at the sight of so many bodies strewn around, but whatever bile had risen to her throat vanished when she recognised one of the firearms.

She’d know it anywhere: the quinique Takizawa had so proudly shown off as he graduated from the Academy. The quinique he believed would beat hers. The gun made to measure to his size and ability.

The gun that now lay abandoned.

She ran forward, dropping to her knees and picking it up. It was cold to the touch, and her hands shook as she opened the barrel, trying to see if it was loaded.

It wasn’t.

“It’s his,” she said, voice quaking dangerously. “It’s Seidou’s.”

She looked around at the bodies, none of which were CCG. Where was he? Where _was_ he?

“Akira . . .” Hide started lowly, still behind her. “We should go.”

“Are you _crazy_? He’s not here! Where is—”

She looked up again, and saw a small, red shape.

_Aogiri._

* * *

 

Hide wasn’t sure if it was the pain medicine or the giddiness that kept bubbling up in his veins that made him unexpectedly lucid when facing Aogiri completely unarmed, but something did. Something told him not to move or freak out as the small figure before him turned, and he found himself staring into the bandaged visage.

Akira stiffened where she was, holding the useless gun to her chest, but the newest addition to their group only giggled. It could have been childish. It could have been cute. It could have been anything that wasn’t the eerie, haunting pearls of laughter echoing through the dark. Even if Hide had wanted to run, something about it froze him in place.

It was a fear he had yet to experience. A fear he had yet to understand.

“ _Nagachika Hideyoshi_ ,” they sung, childish and _feminine,_ Hide realised with a start. They took a step in their direction, and although they held no weapons Hide couldn’t move. They floated towards him, small bandaged feet dancing across puddles of blood like a ballerina on pointe.

“Your friend is alive,” they said, and Hide could _hear_ the smile behind those bandages. “But he’s taken. Poor Mado, you love him so much, don’t you?”

They dropped to a squat in front of her, stroking at Akira’s face with bandaged fingers. “He’s not dead yet, Miss Mado. What will you do?”

Hide watched as Akira opened her mouth to respond, but the enigma pressed a fingertip to the taller woman’s lips. “Don’t tell me,” they continued, “I’m not the one in charge.”

Hide realised with growing dread what the fear was: charisma.

The powerful eeriness of this person, the way they commanded the situation, the way Hide was unable to think past them was so utterly terrifying to him that Hide didn’t trust himself to speak. Who were they? So profoundly powerful that neither Investigator could move just by their presence, what kind of person were they? Why were they here?

What could they have come for?

_They knew his name._

The person stood, stepping past Akira slowly and walking before him. They were small, Hide noted, childishly small. So small and childish but _definitely_ not innocent. Their empty, covered sockets stared into what felt like Hide’s soul.

“Give me your hand, Investigator,” they said, and Hide obeyed numbly. There was no adrenaline. There was no panic. He wasn’t even sure if his heart was beating at all.

He felt something metal press against his palm, and his hand was closed around it by those small, gauze-protected fingers.

“If you want to find your friend,” they continued, “I suggest you look for V.”

_Liar._

They giggled again, twirling on the tips of their toes. “That was a lie, of course. I don’t know where they’ve taken him at all. V might. V might not. But, little Hide, you take that bullet and give it to Arima Kishou. The Owl sends their greetings.”

It was only once they were long gone that Hide breathed.

* * *

 

Arima Kishou was the exact same kind of terrifying. The joy Hide had felt was long gone. Gone like he’d delivered Akira to Amon to take home, gone like he’d told Kaneki to run away. The metal of the bullet had turned warm in his palm by the time he finally managed to ask enough people to find the man himself.

He was a solid head taller than Hide, not large in the way Amon or Shinohara were but infinitely stronger. The most notable thing about him was the white head of hair that, unlike Kaneki’s, was neatly combed down.

The other noticeable thing was the feeling of falseness about him, as if he walked right out of _The Great Gatsby._

“Yes?” Arima asked, “Can I help you?”

“Huh?” Hide’s brain took a long second to adjust. Unlike his appearance, his voice was plain _normal._

“Oh yeah! I’m Rank Three Nagachika, and well, y’know, the thing is, I went with another Investigator back to the scene because we were looking for something? Yeah. Look, I ran into some creepy Aogiri person who called said ‘the Owl sends their greetings’ or something and gave me this.”

“The Owl?” Arima picked up the bullet from his palm, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger almost surgically. Hide watched him roll it, looking at its sides until he stopped.

“Did she know your name, Rank Three?” Arima’s gaze turned back to him, and Hide suddenly felt very small in his presence.

“Y-yeah,” Hide said, discreetly taking a step back. “That was really creepy, but I guess now that I think about it . . .”

Arima reached into his pocket and pulled out four more bullets. “These are all from her,” he said, showing them on his gloved palm. “You can recognise the band of red around the bottom of the copper.”

“How did you get them, then?” Hide asked before he could stop himself. Stupid, Hide, stupid!

“I found them,” Arima said. “In front of the warehouse.” _Oh?_ That wasn’t so bad. Hide didn’t see any lie in his face, but he doubted he could read Arima properly. The man had a very bland face, lacking many expressions. Hide regarded the bullets in the taller man’s hand again, and saw the glint of a number pressed into the metal.

“They’re numbered,” Hide reached out and took one before he chickened out. He was right: a small 4 was pressed into the band of red. “Why are they numbered?”

Arima paused, taking in the Rank Three properly. Hide felt his eyes on him and smiled nervously. He was hopelessly outranked and he’d never realised by just how much until now.

“Did you fight Kaneki?”

_There it was._

“Yeah,” Hide scratched at his cheek, hoping it looked casual. “I still can’t believe I’m alive, honestly.”

“That might be why the Owl knows you,” Arima went on, pocketing the bullets. Hide felt his stomach fill with stone. “Or it might not. Thank you for the find, Nagachika. Watch yourself on your way home.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

 

“You can head home now,” the medic told him, thoroughly exasperated with her patient. “Even if you are concussed.”

Hide saluted, grinning. “I’ll have my roommate look after me.”

“As if,” she sighed. She was a petite woman, with a distinctly motherly presence. Hide had run off on her twice now—once to find Akira, then the other time to find Arima. She was probably completely sick of him.

She wrote out a prescription and handed it to him. “They’re painkillers. You’re going to have a killer headache in the morning, and those stitches on the back of your head will be hell.”

“Can’t wait,” Hide said dryly, and the medic slapped his arm.

“Get out of here,” she sighed. “Go home. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you,” Hide smiled at her. “Sorry I’m such a handful.”

“Oh, please,” she waved him off. “I’m sure you’ll get beat up again.”

Hide retreated, still smiling. He was free. He was dismissed—he could go _home._

Once he was out of the medic’s view, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Seidou was missing. They’d taken him somewhere for God knows what. He’d find him. He’d work with Akira and they _would_ find him.

The Owl encounter was still fresh in his mind, but Hide knew he’d go down a dark path if he entertained it too deeply. Some things shouldn’t be messed with.

In his mind, the entire evening was still playing. While he’d been wrapped up in his own problems, while he’d been helping Kaneki, countless people had died. _So many people had died._ The most terrifying thing was the way death was becoming easier to understand. If he kept moving, eventually everything would get caught up behind him and he wouldn’t think about it. He hoped.

He remembered the distinct features of the Rank Three he had abandoned.

Hide breathed back out, and he started forward. He couldn’t dwell on his mistakes now. He had promises to keep and people relying on him. He had to be able to rely on himself as well. There were no chances to fuck up anymore.

He passed by a row of stretchers, set up while they waited for ambulances to take those in stable conditions to the hospital for proper treatment. Hide avoided looking as he passed. These were people he’d abandoned. They were his guilt.

He continued moving down past them, heading to the exit of the site. He was so close to running away from this. So close to finally putting distance between himself and the CCG.

“Hey! Hey, you!”

Hide stopped, looking for the person who’d called him. No one. Maybe it was someone else. Hide shrugged, turning back. Just get home. Just get home. Just get—

“Hey!” a hand grabbed onto his shoulder, spinning him around. The voice was unfamiliar, but Hide recognised the face instantly.

A dressing similar to his own had been pressed onto the other’s neck, although there was only a thin trail of blood in the gauze. His sharp face was contorted and breathless from the effort of running, and his pale hair was in shambles on the top of his head, falling out of the topknot he’d tied it into.

The Rank Three.

“It’s you!” Hide yelled, gripping at the stranger’s shoulders. “You’re okay!”

“Damn yeah,” said the taller boy, grinning back wildly. “ _You’re_ okay, more amazingly.”

“Don’t worry about me—how are you okay? No, no, stop. What’s your name?”

“Huh? Me?” He stuck his hand out for Hide to shake. “Shirazu.”

Hide took it and shook it eagerly. “Call me Hide.”

“I wanted to thank ya,” Shirazu went on, beaming, “for getting us out of that shed.”

“What?” Of all the things Hide had thought likely, gratitude wasn’t one of them. So many people had died because of him, and he’d—

“I’d no idea how to get out of it,” Shirazu continued, “The way you came up with it was awesome.”

“But you got stabbed!” Hide screeched, gesturing at Shirazu’s bandage. “And I full-on got dragged off!”

“It’s fine,” Shirazu said, “I thought I’d die for a second there too, but the Quinx thing really saved me.”

_Quinx?_

“Are you—?” Hide was cut off by someone yelling Shirazu’s name. The taller boy winced, offering an apologetic smile towards Hide.

“That’s my boss,” he said. “Sorry, I gotta go. But I wanted to thank ya. It was wicked.”

Hide watched him jog back, and thought that he could have floated all the way home.

Not everything was lost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that wasnt as bad as i think it is... welp
> 
> aha at last a Quinx appears! ARGH
> 
> I'm going to be putting the story on Hiatus for maybe the next two weeks while I get my shit together. I'm changing courses at school and I have to organise meetings and I'm not sure what things need to be done etc etc so please be patient while I sideline the story for a little. I'll be back soon, but I need to sort out what my life is doing. Don't worry though, next chapter is _all_ Hidekane. I promise I'll make it perfect before I post. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support of Pathetic Fallacy! I'll be back as soon as I can :D
> 
> P.S. kudos to anyone that can find the playlist I've been keeping of this story on YouTube. ヾ（＠＾▽＾＠）ノ


	49. A Dark God Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 1 of hidekane shiiiiit eg THE ANGST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i tried to make this as wholesome as possible but like, im only good for the pain lets be honest  
> IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG  
> PLEASE ENJOY THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH  
> EDIT: so i was reading this just then and there are so many typos???? im so sorry guys, i proofread everything and even had a beta for this one so im not sure if its because of a copy and paste error or maybe i deleted the words by accident BUT i fixed everything now. sorry again.

The spring humidity was finally seeping into the air as Hide walked through the deserted streets. He wasn’t sure whether to actually head home or not, but as a last-ditch decision he chose to crash at Kaneki’s because a) it was closer and b) he wanted to see him. He’d retrieved his phone and a jacket from the locker, but Kaneki had yet to answer any calls and the singular text he sent to Nishio received a curt reply of “ _if u die ill laugh”._

The streets were eerily deserted. It was nearly 4AM, and a major operation had been happening at one end of the city. Distinctly, Hide remembered Touka telling him to watch himself on the streets, and he didn’t need to be a genius that the reason Kaneki and Touka could afford to live on their own was because housing was cheap due to the crime rates of the area.

What made him even more uneasy was that there was literally no activity around him. Not even a stray cat.

Hide tried calling Kaneki again, but neither number of his was getting a response. Even Touka would be picking up Sasaki’s phone, wouldn’t she?

Hide caught sight of the familiar two-storey complex that Kaneki lived in. Hide sighed in relief when he saw the glow of a light in the kitchen window. Maybe Kaneki was home by now.

He hurried to the steps, noticing the trail of wetness. Kaneki.

Hide jogged up as fast as his aching limbs would let him and spammed the doorbell. Was yelling a good idea? Was it a good idea to call out? Was Kaneki okay? Shit, how bad was Kaneki’s knee? What if his work was even worse than he’d thought and—

The sound of many locks being undone carried through the wood, and it swung open to reveal Kaneki, soaked to the bone.

Hide didn’t have time to even say anything before he was stepping forward, crushing him against his chest for what felt like the thousandth time. “You’re okay,” he breathed against him, falling back on the door to close it behind him. “You’re okay.”

Kaneki only hummed against him response, face pressed into the cotton of Hide’s shirt, the dampness soaking it through.

It felt like a dream—maybe it was. He’d never entertained the idea that everything would so peacefully come to an end like this. They were banged-up and carrying broken bones and some extra lead and—

“Your knee!” Hide screeched suddenly, shaking Kaneki by the shoulders. “Is it okay? Your swim was fine? Have you—no, you’re wet, you can’t have got it out yet. Okay, um, what are we doing about that?”

“I can’t get it fixed until tomorrow night,” Kaneki said softly, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tough, I’m going to.” Hide eyed him seriously, taking note of the way his pale lashes had clumped together with water, still not dry. Kaneki glanced up at him, sighing, before reaching past him to re-lock the door. Hide realised why opening it took so long: there must have been six different dead-locks holding the door closed.

“You can lock all the doors you want, I’m still worried.”

Kaneki sighed again, sliding the final bolt. “It’s fine, really.”

“In the average person, they can contract lead poisoning up to two days after the injury,” Hide went on, putting on as best of a teacher voice as he could. “And you, _Kaneki,_ are at even more of a risk because of two—three reasons.”

“Hide, really, it’s no big deal—”

“One: your healing is fucking awesome and goes _exponentially_ faster than the most of us,” Hide tapped Kaneki on the nose as the smaller boy’s features turned stony, snapping him out of the negative cloud he could see brewing on his white little head.

“Two: one of them is smack-bang in the middle of a joint, meaning it’s probably been grating between the bones and sending little bits of shrapnel all through your bloodstream, and—well, you can probably guess the third.”

Kaneki glanced down at the sleeve of his jumper, studded with bullet-shaped holes. “Yeah,” Hide said for him, “you’ve probably had more than enough in you.”

Kaneki chewed on his lip, stepping past him, but Hide grabbed his elbow. “Kaneki, it’ll be—”

“Please,” Kaneki said, “just leave it.”

Hide sighed, deliberately loud. “Honestly, where’s Touka to yell at you?”

“She’s at Uta’s—”

“Then we can go, too!”

“Hide, no.”

“Hide, yes. Let’s go.”

Kaneki grabbed his arm as if to deter him, but it felt desperate, like he was drowning without it. “ _No._ ”

“Okay,” Hide said, voice softening. “Then what else do we do?”

“We ignore it.”

“That’s not really the best way to deal with a problem, Kaneki.”

Kaneki turned to face him, before ducking his head and burying it in Hide’s chest again. Hide held him there, breathing away the tension from before with every second. They could do this. _He_ could do this.

“I could do it,” Hide offered slowly. “Get the bullets out, I mean. Provided you have some form of anaesthesia and scalpels and stuff.”

“You’d be disgusted,” Kaneki murmured against him. Hide held his face in his hands, trying his best to glare at him.

“How could I _ever_ be disgusted by you?” he said, as soft as he could, pressing their foreheads together. “Really, Kaneki.”

“You just—but everything is _wrong_ about it and—and it’s so _gross_ and—”

“Everything is very _right_ about it,” Hide said, pressing his lips to Kaneki’s damp forehead. “And it’s not gross in the slightest”—he kissed Kaneki’s cheek—“and I’m thankful that out of everyone in the world, _you_ are the one who gets to heal from otherwise fatal injuries.” Hide stopped, lips brushing. He paused for a second, waiting to see what would happen.

He felt Kaneki’s breath dance against his skin, but the other didn’t move.

“Oh? Where’s the Kaneki that would eat my mouth out for breakfast?” he laughed, straightening. Kaneki’s face was dusted in pink, staring after him until he realised with a start what Hide was saying, and his ears lit up like beetroots.

“S-S-Stop getting off topic!” Kaneki turned and went to the kitchen angrily, with Hide still laughing about the sheer amount of _red_ on those ears, clearly visible through his white hair.

Hide leaned on the wall, watching as Kaneki brooded to himself, putting a kettle on to boil. Kaneki turned on the gas and lit it with practiced hands, pulling the kettle over the flame. His shoulder tensed for a second, and Hide was already moving when Kaneki glared at him over his shoulder.

“Nope.”

“It’s another bullet, isn’t it?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Kaneki muttered sourly, tapping the bench with his fingertips, hands splayed, like a paralysed pianist stuck on the same semiquavers for an eternity. If his worries weren’t rapidly growing in an all-too-familiar swarm but for completely different reasons, he probably would have laughed.

He didn’t.

Maths was easy, Hide decided, in this sense. Exposure to lead in the bloodstream would almost inevitably lead to some toxic poisoning. When the occasional farmer got shot, maybe he wouldn’t get it. Symptoms first appeared any time between two days and two months after the injury. That was based on a singular bullet wound. Kaneki, Hide estimated, had maybe three bullets still in his body. One of which was growing more dangerous the longer he put weight on it.

Hide remembered all the practicals he’d done at school. He remembered all the theory he’d covered. Theoretically, if he had to . . . he _could_ . . .

_“_ I can do it,” he said to Kaneki’s back. “Get the bullets out.”

Kaneki tensed, before becoming incredibly fascinated in setting up the press. “T-that’s nice of you.”

“You can tell me no,” Hide said offhandedly, “but that means I’ll stay here and brood for like, the next two days until you get them out.”

“Really, it’s fine. You don’t need to do that.”

“Just you wait, I’ll appear behind doors like, ‘Kaneki, are you feeling okay? Are you nauseated? Can you feel the lead in your bloodstream?’”

“Spare me,” Kaneki said, dryer than the fucking Sahara.

“You’ll never see me coming.”

Hide walked over until he stood beside him at the stove, numbly watching the kettle heat up. Kaneki had grown silent again, resuming his mission to tap away at Tchaikovsky’s eternal scream on the counter.

“I’m worried,” Hide admitted. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

The distance between them had never felt wider.

“I shouldn’t have to make you do it,” Kaneki murmured, flicking off the stove and taking the kettle, pouring it into the press with a steady hand. Hide watched, trying to figure out a way to convince him. Maybe a different approach?

“Why can’t you go and see Uta?”

“ _Because,_ Hide,” Kaneki sighed, “it’s a rule. I made it. On the agreement I work with them, Touka and Ayato are allowed to take shelter there on the nights of large operations that I’m working on. The other half of that is that I can’t go there until 24 hours since the operation have passed.”

“Kaneki, Kaneki,” Hide mused, crossing his arms. When Kaneki didn’t look at him, he pouted fiercely. “Oi, look at me.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to tell you something really important.”

Kaneki conceded, looking up. Hide nodded, sagely, clapping a hand on his good shoulder. “You fucking _suck_ at making deals, sweetie, okay? Jesus.”

Kaneki’s face went pink instantly, and he scowled, busying himself while he waited for the coffee to steep. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

“Are you upset—ah, sor—whoa, are you crying? Don’t cry, I’m sorry! You’re great at decisions I was joking—!“

“I’m not crying,” Kaneki huffed, turning and leaning back against the bench. He really wasn’t, Hide noticed.

“Ah, so you’re just so salty that the excess water in your body is leaking out your eyes.”

Kaneki pursed his lips, running a hand through his hair. His clothes were damp and Hide could just about smell the wharf coming off him, but that was the least of their problems. He was beginning to recognise the unreadable look that came to Kaneki’s face whenever Hide pushed him about the healing thing.

“Okay, well, I _can_ —”

“Let’s just pretend it doesn’t exist,” Kaneki said quickly. Hide caught him crack a finger. “Please. I . . . I’m fine, it won’t affect me, and—”

Cutting him off, Hide pulled him by the elbow, pulling Kaneki’s back against him. He draped his arms around Kaneki’s waist, resting his chin on the top of Kaneki’s bowed head.

“It’s fine,” he said, feeling the steam rushing out of the press warm his back. “I already knew, yeah? I told you. Stop stressing about it. It’s just you and me here.”

He let Kaneki relax against him before he even thought about bringing up the urgent _situation_ at hand, but Kaneki cut him off.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why’s that?” Kaneki raised his hands again, presumably to crack a finger, but Hide caught them and massaged them in his own, trying to get blood flowing in them. They were deathly cold.

“You deserve so much better than me,” Kaneki went on. “All I do is make you worried and ruin everything, I just get injured and—”

“Nothing wrong with being injured if I get to play nurse,” Hide said. His voice dropped to an almost childish whisper, “do I get to play nurse?”

He counted Kaneki’s breaths before he spoke again: three. “It’s not like that.”

“You’re making this a lot more complicated than it needs to be,” Hide murmured. He wondered, dimly, if they should finish making the coffee. He decided not to bother, though. “I told you I loved you, remember? I still mean it. I’ll be the hooker girlfriend to you as Deadpool.”

_“Hide.”_

_“Kaneki.”_

“You don’t know what . . . what you’re dealing with,” Kaneki’s weight sagged against him. By now Hide’s clothes were wet where they touched, but he didn’t care. What he needed to do was convince Kaneki. The only problem was that Kaneki didn’t seem like he’d have an outburst at all that Hide could try and reassure him through. That only made it harder, because Kaneki was _so fucking stubborn._

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure I do,” Hide went on, finding it increasingly important to fill their silences. “I think he’s twenty years old, shy, has some funky hair, likes to read, some kickass roommates and a head full of bullshit _at present_ that I know, as a reasonable human being, he is able to get past _but_ ”—Hide blindly pressed a hand to Kaneki’s mouth to keep him from protesting—“he’s had a long day, and he needs a reality check. From me. Who is totally competent and willing to help him out with this very pressing issue, provided you have, like, the proper shit like painkillers.”

“Are you sure about this?” Kaneki turned to face him, features pale and frozen-looking. “Really? I mean, my knee’s fine, I can walk on it, you don’t have to—to see how—“

“Wanna hear something stupid?” Hide pushed the still-damp hair off Kaneki’s face, exposing the still-healing scar on his forehead from the shot before. Kaneki looked away, but Hide tilted his chin up with his free hand.

“Okay,” Kaneki conceded, and Hide nearly yelled with triumph.

“Well, Kaneki Ken, I’m offering to help because I cannot imagine my life without you in it anymore.”

Kaneki blinked a few times, lost, before his brow tightened in a way that made Hide’s heart break because _god,_ how much pain could he see there?

“Okay,” Kaneki said, unsmiling, but with a softness to his face Hide had come to recognise. “If . . . Thank you, Hide.”

Hide grinned, relieved. “Thank me after, okay? I hope you have, like, anaesthesia or something.”

“No,” Kaneki said, reaching past him to lower the plunger to the coffee. Once it was down all the way, Hide watched him place two mugs on the bench and then squat down, reaching through the cupboard under the stove until with a glassy _clink,_ he produced a full bottle of vodka.

“I have this, though. It should work.”

* * *

 

Hide was sitting beside Kaneki’s leg, stretched out along the floor of the shower, sipping at the rapidly cooling coffee while Kaneki downed his second half-black half-vodka coffee. The more Hide thought about it, the stupider his idea was. He really wasn’t a professional—even if Uta wasn’t either (from what Hide had seen of him at the bar, he doubted Uta was any better than he was at this kind of thing) but really, what had he been thinking?

“How many shots do you think are in that?” Hide gestured with the rim of his cup towards the mug in Kaneki’s hand. The white-haired boy shrugged, nursing it against his chest.

“Five? Maybe six?” Kaneki took another sip. Distantly, Hide wondered how bad it must taste: the bitterness of the black coffee against the acidity of the vodka in it. Would it even have an effect? He was starting to think so less and less as Kaneki’s composure didn’t change, even as he finished the cup completely.

“Drunk yet?”

Kaneki paused for a second, tugging at the neck of his jumper. “I don’t think so.”

“Then—oh, _jeez_.” Kaneki filled the entire mug again with straight vodka, evidently not caring about the murkiness the leftover coffee turned it. He took a gulp like it was water and set it beside him.

“Do you even get drunk?” Hide said, smirking as he sipped his own coffee. Kaneki rolled his lips, shrugging shyly. At that, Hide had to laugh. “ _Damn._ ”

“I might be drunk enough to let you cut my leg open now,” Kaneki admitted. “No—wait.” He took another gulp before setting it down again, firmer this time.

“Now I am.”

“Are you sure?” Hide said, pulling on the gloves in their eloquent first-aid kit. “Like, really, really sure?”

“No.”

“Good enough,” Hide said, trying to smile reassuringly. He tore open the disposable scalpel from the packet, already having cut away more of the jean around the knee. The old bandages lay discarded somewhere to the side, as the skin had already closed around the wound. If Hide didn’t know better, he’d have thought it healed well.

Apart from the fact that it looked like Kaneki’s knee had formed an extra bump when it moved.

“You’re definitely drunk?”

“You’re _definitely_ okay with this?”

“Yes,” Hide said. He looked up at Kaneki again, trying to receive final confirmation. “100 per cent? Definitely?”

Kaneki nodded, eyes glassy and cheeks dusted in pink. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Hide said, slowly pressing the blade into the skin. Blood beaded instantly, but Hide swallowed against the feeling of _wrongness_ of what he was doing. It had to hurt Kaneki. He was deliberately hurting him and it felt terrible. The only thing that felt worse was letting the bullet stay in and Kaneki get lead poisoning.

With his free hand, he rubbed circles into his leg with his thumb, hoping it was comforting even through the layer of latex. “Keep talking,” he told Kaneki as he drew a straight line down the centre of the kneecap. “It helps.”

“I doubt it,” Kaneki said with surprising smoothness. “Shit, I’m drunk.”

“It’s not a bad sight,” Hide said, cutting across it to form a small x shape. Blood was already dripping everywhere, but Hide ignored it. He had to stay focused on not cutting the wrong ligaments.

“Cutting open my knee or me drunk?”

“You being drunk is definitely the highlight of my night.” Wincing slightly, Hide began to pull back the layer of skin on the side with the lump that he assumed was the bullet being pushed around the joint. “It’s not quite as good as that time you came high to class.”

“That was a poor miscalculation,” Kaneki muttered, embarrassed. “I thought it would have worn off by then.”

“Pretty sure you thought that I wouldn’t notice,” Hide teased, lifting the scalpel again and pressing it into the next layer of tissue, which revealed the lead bullet still in the joint.

“I found it,” Hide said. “I’m gonna grab it, okay? Keep talking to me.”

Despite this, Kaneki was silent as Hide pinched the foreign body between his fingers, dropping it to the ground with a harsh _clang._

“Anti-climatic,” Kaneki murmured dryly.

“I’d give it a rotten tomato,” Hide quipped, trying to close up everything he’d cut as neatly as possible. “For effort.”

Hide fumbled, trying to find some sort of stitches or dressing or something to hold the wound closed. “Do you have, like, wire? Gauze?”

“It’ll be fine,” Kaneki stared down at the incision blankly. “Just give it a few minutes and then you can let it go.”

“Got it,” Hide grinned. For a second, Kaneki returned his smile, but it fell quickly.

That wasn’t good.

Kaneki took another gulp of his drink. The cup was rapidly emptying, Hide noticed. The whirring bathroom fan kept him from suffocating in the smell, but it was still strong enough to make the back of his throat burn.

Hide had never realised how strong Kaneki was until now, his hand gripping at his knee, which had already scabbed up. He gave Kaneki another smile, but the response was growing smaller.

“You okay?” Hide asked, flicking between Kaneki’s face and knee. Kaneki nodded, and Hide was quickly becoming aware of how fast Kaneki was doing the _thing._ The thing where he curled back into his shell. Something Hide never wanted him to feel around him ever. _Ever._

“Damn, I guess me and your bathroom will never get along, hey?” Hide laughed, slapping Kaneki’s other leg. He watched Kaneki moved intently. Anything. Anything was fine. He saw the instinctive polite smile form on his lips, the nod of his head— and then it stopped.

“You’ve been in here before?” Kaneki asked, suddenly on him, the warmth drinking had put in his face fading by the second. “When? What happened?”

_He doesn’t remember._

“It’s nothing, Hide grinned wider, glancing down at Kaneki’s knee. “Should I let go?”

“Hide, when were you in here?”

“Is that a yes? I’ll keep holding it all night if you don’t tell me, Nekkers.”

“Yes—but _when_?”

Hide let go of his leg, and Kaneki straightened it slowly. Amazing. Literally amazing.

“ _Hide._ ”

“I think it was . . . last week?” Hide considered rubbing his face, but remembered the gloves on his hands. Crap. “No big deal. We had a great shower.”

“No we didn’t.”

“Ah, shit,” Hide took his hand, pulling it into his lap to cut at the fabric around the bullet wound, already closed like the knee. Kaneki must have been used to this, because a single black dot had been drawn on top of it with what Hide assumed was permanent marker so that he could see where the bullet was even after it had healed. “It’s no biggie. We’ll talk about it later.”

Focus on the job, he told himself. It doesn’t matter if Kaneki forgot. Kaneki didn’t choose to forget. It was—it was fine. It was _fine._

He hoped.

“Can I . . . ?” Hide gestured to the dot but Kaneki was back to glaring at him. Hide sighed. “I’ll tell you when we’re done with this, okay?”

“I remember you being here in the morning,” Kaneki said, staring past him. “I thought it was . . .” something came over his gaze, and he fell silent. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“What?”

“Implode.” Kaneki said the word angrily. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Maybe later.”

“ _Hide.”_

_“Kaneki.”_ Hide gripped at his slim arm, warm in his hands. “It’s fine. I just had to help you get out of some soaked clothes. Besides, I got cuddled all night so I’d forgive you in a heartbeat. Don’t worry about it.”

Kaneki blinked once, then looked down. “I’m sorry. You can start.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hide wanted to hold him again. God, that’s all he ever wanted to do. The way things were now he didn’t even kid himself into believing the dream of a horny teen—he just wanted this night to be over and everyone to be safe and alive and _happy._ Adulting fucking sucked. It sucked for Kaneki. It sucked for him. It probably sucked for Touka too.

“I’m going to start, okay?” he rubbed circles onto Kaneki’s wrist, scalpel pointing at the forearm where the bullet was lodged, right in front of his elbow. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah—“

“It’s okay not to be. There’s no rush.”

Kaneki tensed. Hide kept rubbing circles in his arm. He wanted to say things that were comforting, things that meant something more than what he could offer, but the more he wanted to the more he realised the distance between them stretched eternities at a time. Kaneki was a mystery. There was so, so much Hide didn’t know, and Hide wanted to know it. He wanted Kaneki to confide in him. He wanted to help. He wanted to be of _use_ for something other than being cut off and forced to watch Kaneki beat himself up like this.

“I’m sorry,” Kaneki murmured. His arm relaxed in Hide’s grip slowly. “You can do it now.”

“All right,” Hide said. “In three—two—one.”

The bullet was near the surface this time. Only a single incision and Hide was pulling it free and tossing it back with the other bullet. He held the limb tightly for a minute or two, until Kaneki gave him a sharp nod of confirmation.

“How many more is there?” Hide asked, letting Kaneki stretch him arm out.

“One more,” he said. “In my shoulder. Are you sure you want to do this, Hide? That one’s deep—like, really deep—and you . . . you’re doing this . . . for me . . .”

Hide wasn’t sure what constituted as the right answer, so instead he put on his 1000-watt smile instead, giving a thumbs-up. “I’d do anything for you, okay? Don’t you worry. I should be thanking you for letting me do this instead.”

Kaneki shook his head, looking down. His bangs obscured his face, and Hide worried what was going on inside his head. Probably something self-deprecating and awful, just the way he would. Hide wanted to be the one to change that for him, just this once.

“Hey, only one more and then we’re done,” Hide said brightly. “Only one. I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.”

God, he was such a hypocrite. Wasn’t he the one that said there was no rush?

He disagreed completely.

“How are you okay with this?” Kaneki was painfully faint. “How are you okay with . . . with _me_?”

Hide knew what he meant. Well, Hide hoped he did.

“Of course I’m okay with it,” Hide shrugged. “ _Because_ it’s you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Kaneki snapped, hands clenching in his lap. He was yelling to the tiles on the ground, his hair swaying. “I’m—I’m so gross, and I’m so _bad_ and yet you—you’re not part of this! You’re just _Hide,_ and now you’re fine with me healing like—like a _monster,_ and—and yet—”

Hide shuffled forward, dodging the puddles of blood on the ground and burying his face in Kaneki’s hair, wrapping his arms around his bowed neck. “We went over this,” Hide reminded him. “We did. I wasn’t lying. Out of everyone . . . even if you, like, you hate it, and I’m so sorry if it was terrible, but it’s thanks to it that you didn’t die on me, and I will always love it for that.”

The words felt raw from his throat. Maybe, Hide thought distantly, if he wasn’t so fucking grateful Kaneki was still here and screaming at him, he’d have thought more about what he said. But he didn’t. He wanted Kaneki to know.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Hide went on, spurred on by Kaneki’s silence. “I know you have. You don’t have to suffer alone now, okay? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can’t even remember what you’ve done for me,” Kaneki protested sullenly. “How can you say that?”

“I dunno,” Hide resisted the urge to card his hands through Kaneki’s impossibly delicate, snowy hair. ”How could I not?”

“But I’m such a burden on you,” Kaneki whispered. “I’m so fucking _sorry._ All I do is cause you problems—”

“Yeah, I like bad boys too.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaneki said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so _sorry_ I can’t be _better_ —”

“Kaneki, it’s—”

“—And all you do is help me, and I can’t give anything back, and I just get into trouble and I’m always so _selfish_ and I always rely on you and—”

“Shh, Kaneki—”

“You don’t deserve _me_ —you’re worth so much more than I am, I’m just—I’m just some fucking monster that can’t die or even remember things—”

“Kaneki—”

Kaneki grabbed his shoulders, staring into him with the haunting, shell-shocked look that rattled him to the core. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so _sorry._ You do so much for me, and I have nothing to give back and all I do is cause you so _many_ problems and I can’t—”

“Doing things for you isn’t a _chore,_ Kaneki,” Hide said, probably sterner than he’d ever said anything in his life. “It doesn’t need any reward. All I need is you to still be here with me. Just . . .” _don’t let me lose you._

Crap, had he said too much? Shit, he wasn’t sure anymore. Kaneki’s eyes were staring after his words, waiting for what came next, but the words wouldn’t leave his throat. Saying that was . . . that was so manipulative of him. It would be so _fucked up_ of him to put that on Kaneki. He couldn’t bring himself to put even more stress onto him.

Everything he’d done wrong bubbled to his mind: Itori, Asaoka, investigating his file at the CCG—everything Kaneki didn’t know about, everything Hide was so disastrously unravelling and discovering something far more terrible than he’d ever imagined. Something he had done behind Kaneki’s back. Something Kaneki probably hadn’t wanted him to do.

“I’m sorry that . . .” Kaneki looked away, chewing his lips in thought. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to save your friends, back then. If I had been faster, if . . .”

“Don’t say that.” Hide threw his head back, staring into the ceiling. “Don’t make it your fault. It’s not.”

“If you knew,” Kaneki said, voice shaking, “if you knew it too, then you’d blame me as well.”

“You were not the one pulling the trigger,” Hide breathed the words to the lights. “They didn’t die because of you. They didn’t die because of me. They died because someone uninvolved shot them. And then I didn’t die because you shot him. It all comes down to chance in the end. And I was just lucky enough to have you get there in time.”

“I could have . . . I should have saved all of you.”

_All the ‘could have’s eventually turn into ‘should have’s._

Hide knew it wouldn’t get anywhere. There were few people he could list that were as stubborn as Kaneki, and it wouldn’t change if he kept telling him. The best thing he could do, he knew, was get them both out of this situation, wipe it off, and get back to living for tomorrow. Or today. Or whatever.

It was very logical and reasonable. Hide agreed 100%.

But he couldn’t swallow the sting in his chest. The familiar coolness to his insides that reminded him he would _never_ see them again. He didn’t want to think about people who were already dead when he had someone still with him. Someone that he would give anything for.

His mother would probably have a heart attack if she knew what he was thinking. Damn.

He knew what he could say. The simple words ‘ _I don’t blame you’._ They were true. But the more shit he had to hide, the harder it became to tell anyone the truth. The harder it became to express himself freely, for fear that maybe something would slip out by accident.

Was hiding everything the right thing to do?

Hide remembered the feeling of pulling the trigger and knowing it hit where he’d aimed. Even though not a single drop of blood had reached him, he felt like he was wading through it. His friends had died too. If he didn’t keep to what the Washuu wanted, then even Kaneki—

He wasn’t doing this here or now. He wasn’t having an episode like this when he had a job.

He wouldn’t allow it of himself.

“Stop bringing down the mood, man,” Hide flashed a grin so wide his cheeks hurt. “Let’s just finish this first.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No biggie.” Hide should have hated how naturally it came, lying to Kaneki like this. It was a _very_ big biggie. Oh, God. He was definitely having an episode and there was no way to chill out to music.

“Shove forward for me,” Hide elbowed Kaneki’s arm playfully as he tried to manoeuvre around behind him, where the final bullet was, lodged in his shoulder. Kaneki complied in silence, shuffling forward on his butt in the shower.

It could have been funny. Honestly, Hide wished it was funny.

Except he was now aware of how much _shit_ both of them were in—maybe not this second, this moment—but once they left the safety of Kaneki’s apartment Hide would be right back to where he’d started: under the eyes of the Washuu, waiting to expose him and blackmail him into the ranks. Waiting to capture Kaneki. Waiting to destroy everything.

And he had no idea why.

Hide prodded at the hole in Kaneki’s jumper, tearing it wider. The top was thoroughly destroyed. It needed to be thrown in the bin ASAP, drenched in dirty docklands water and blood. As he pulled the fabric apart, he distracted himself with the sight of pale skin he’d yet to see. God, he wanted to run away from everything. He wanted to run away with Kaneki and be dumb and make out and just do _anything_ but go back tomorrow from everything they were hiding from.

Everything stopped as he caught the edge of a thick scar in the skin.

Spurred on my curiosity, he cut away the fabric he was tearing, giving him a clear circle view of the snapshot of flesh.

He’d underestimated how cruel the world was.

Beside the black dot Kaneki had marked were various other pockmark-shaped scars of previous bullets. He could see the curve of a thick line of silverly skin, darkened at the edges in a way Hide knew was a violent scar, curving the shape of his shoulder blade and disappearing further down his back.

The dots connected almost instantly: this was why Kaneki had been so adamant the other night about Hide not seeing his body. It was something bad enough to exist in his state at that time. Muscle memory.

“Dude,” Hide started brightly, knowing that he couldn’t let Kaneki know he’d seen what the other had so desperately trying to hide, “you are so fucking ripped.”

It wasn’t a lie.

No, it _definitely_ was not a lie by any standards.

It had the effect Hide had been hoping for; the sudden shift in the mood, the sudden reddening of Kaneki’s ears as he gave a timid, embarrassed laugh. “I guess . . .”

“Shh, I’m putting my face on it.”

“ _What?”_ Kaneki positively _squealed_ in surprise, and Hide laughed, wrapping his arms around his torso and pulling his forehead against the bare skin. Kaneki squirmed, but Hide was relentless. He held him tight, pushing aside the wetness and smell of blood in the fabric and relishing in the feeling of having Kaneki _there._

He’d never realised how grounding it was to have Kaneki relax against him, feeling his steady breathing even out and his warmth settle, warm and flush against him.

Just for a few seconds. It was the same feeling as letting his eyes slip closed after a week of staying up all night. It was an intoxicating feeling that he knew would get harder and harder to pull himself away from, the longer he let it wear on.

“Last one,” Hide said, his words suddenly disgustingly loud in the small room. “Then it’s over.”

He wasn’t sure what ‘over’ meant. He doubted Kaneki was sure, either.

“Yeah,” Kaneki murmured. “Okay.”

With a sigh, Hide sat back, rummaging around for where he’d left the scalpel. The lightness in his hand despite the sharpness of the blade still unsettled him as he lifted it to Kaneki’s exposed skin, warm and thrumming with life instead of the cold steel in his hand.

“I’m going to do it.”

“Okay.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, okay—now.”

Blood beaded and dripped down instantly, and Hide winced as he cut the short incision into skin, trying to keep it as small as possible. Blood came out in a rivulet, coating the exposed muscle and making it even harder to see.

“It’s still deeper,” Kaneki said. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s fine.”

“I know it hurts,” Hide murmured. “You don’t have to hide it, okay? Tell me what I can do. How much deeper?”

“It’s against my ribs,” Kaneki said. “I can feel it grating against them.”

Shit. That was deeper than he’d hoped. “At school, they tell us to count up to ten when something hurts,” Hide tried to keep talking as he worked the scalpel deeper. By now blood had soaked through Kaneki’s jumper to the bottom hem and was dripping onto the tiles. The smell of it filled the room, and Hide struggled to keep the discomfort down. “Feel free.”

Kaneki snorted in amusement. “Because that works?”

“I guess when you have a will of diamond, you can afford not to.” Hide winced, pushing the scalpel deeper. He was literally cutting into muscle blind. “Do you just sit there like, ‘I am the strong, I feel no pain’, or something?”

“Something like that,” Kaneki said, voice fading. Hide mentally berated himself. He’d overstepped it again.

The scalpel hit something hard, and Hide yelped loudly. He heard Kaneki’s breathing stutter for a second before it evened out. “It’s there. I think you’re right next to it.”

“Bear with me,” Hide said, “I might be doing this part on the fly.”

“Thought so,” Kaneki muttered dryly, and Hide laughed faintly. Honestly, how was he being so talkative when Hide was literally five centimetres deep in his skin? Jesus, what had he gotten himself into?

And why didn’t he hate it?

Oh, shit. That was so _weird_ he had a problem.

He pushed the scalpel to the side, finding an object in the muscle. He stopped breathing, trying to pop it free with the flat of the blade. There was a semi-terrifying semi-satisfying wet ‘ _pop_ ’ and the bullet came free, pushed to the surface by the blood flow for Hide to pick out and toss aside.

“Did it!” he cried, throwing away the scalpel in a way that was _very_ not smart and _very_ uncaring. “You’re done! We’re done! Thank _God.”_

Kaneki nodded, silent, and Hide busied himself applying pressure to the wound. “You did great,” he told Kaneki, nuzzling against the back of his head. “It’s over now, I promise.”

Kaneki gave a shaky sigh, and Hide sat forward, pressing kisses against his cheek over his shoulder. “You did it. We’re done. It’s over.”

The other didn’t reply, but lay back against Hide, eyelids drooping tiredly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s done.”

* * *

 

Hide had taken it upon himself to clean the mugs in the kitchen after a long, emotionally-drained argument about who got to clean the shower. Hide, naturally, offered, but Kaneki wouldn’t have it and as soon as he said his knee was fine he was up and moving _despite_ Hide’s best efforts. He wouldn’t even let Hide help as he gathered up everything blood-soaked and used, tying them in a plastic bag and vowing to get rid of it later. Then, of course, Hide offered to clean the puddles of blood on the shower floor and once again, Kaneki would _not_ have it.

Damn. Hide hated losing arguments.

That was probably why he’d let himself snooze on the table, scanning through the messages on his phone while Kaneki was in the shower, trying not to think of everything that had happened during that single night.

The time was 5:50AM. He’d been up all night. Again.

Oh, _boy._

Nishio had stopped replying to him, so Hide had taken to spamming him with as many messages as he possibly could, just because he knew there would be a fun response in a few hours.

The water pipes screeched to a stop, and Hide sat up, fully ready to fight this _boy_ of his.

He hadn’t really expected Kaneki to run out in pyjamas into his room in a hurry, then come running back into the bathroom with an armful of clothes. Hide, in dumb shock, listened to some banging around until Kaneki finally emerged, still flushed from the shower and breathless from his little errands.

“Um,” he said, something familiar and shy creeping into his face, “You can use the shower. If you want. My clothes are kind of small, so I’ve stolen some of Ayato’s, but . . . yeah.”

Hide loved losing arguments to Kaneki Ken.

His response must have dragged on for too long, because Kaneki grew redder and redder under his gaze.

“S-Sorry, if you didn’t. You don’t have to. Um, I was really loud before, and—”

“I love you,” Hide said dumbly. “Like, yeah. Love you. Kind of sad I can’t wear your shit though.” He stood, grinning like an idiot as he walked towards the bathroom.

Kaneki had flushed all down his neck by the time Hide got there, and he had to pause to enjoy the view. He tried to stifle his laugh behind his hand, but that only made Kaneki’s face impossibly red like a glowing stop light.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hide wheezed, and Kaneki pouted in response.

“It’s not that funny . . .”

“It is,” Hide pushed his wet hair off his face, quietly liking the way it looked on him. “Because you’re cute.”

“You’re embarrassing,” Kaneki murmured, turning to face him. He smelled like soap and warm water. Things that were safe and clean and _definitely_ not the things that had been on earlier in the night. If he looked at Kaneki now, he wouldn’t even realise what had happened. If it wasn’t for the deliciously plunging neckline of his shirt showing off the silvery stripes of scars on his neck and collarbones, dipping down over his chest, then Hide wouldn’t have even connected the dots.

But he did.

He had grown to see them as part of Kaneki.

It came naturally, kissing Kaneki. The fell swoop of lips meeting, breathing mingling and the pulling of his smaller body closer. The anxiety that had been sitting in his veins finally settled and faded.

There were no choppers with cameras. There was no one to watch them and report them. There was no latex on his hands and no wounds to be treated. There was only Kaneki and him, safe and locked away in his apartment.

Somehow that made up for everything.

His hands carded through Kaneki’s hair, tugging him closer still until he was licking his way into Kaneki’s mouth, forcing their lips apart and relishing in the closeness. He skimmed the smooth edges of Kaneki’s teeth, finding the roof of his mouth and dragging his tongue back against it in a way that made Kaneki shudder in his hands.

“Ticklish?” Hide murmured against him, tracing sloppy kisses along his cheek until he found his neck, sucking on the thick rope of muscle on his throat. Kaneki let out something akin to a whimper and Hide felt him clutch at his waist, hands burning against his skin where they slipped under his t-shirt.

“That was cheat—” his voice caught as Hide traced his collarbone, pushing the shirt over and exposing his shoulder, still shower-warmed and pink with blush. He trailed kisses along it, working back towards Kaneki’s neck, already red and blotchy.

“Didn’t catch that.” Hide smirked, pulling away just enough to see Kaneki’s face. He loved the way his face dusted in pink, the way his eyes grew darker and the way it ironed out the age in his face. Selfishly, Hide loved that it was _him_ that made him look like that. “Care to repeat it?”

“You’re the worst,” Kaneki grumbled, pulling him down by the shirt and tugging it up, messily trying to coordinate his kissing efforts with undressing efforts. Hide chuckled against his lips, feeling the shirt bunch under his armpits.

“Are you helping _me_ shower this time?” he muttered dryly, and Kaneki snorted, finally tugging the cotton up and over his head, casting it aside before he pulled Hide back against him. “You sure like it when _I_ get undressed.” Hands gripped at his back hotly and fingers tracing his ribcage. He groaned against Kaneki’s mouth, but that only increased the fervour of the kiss. He felt Kaneki’s hands brush against the bandage around his middle at the same time he thumbed Kaneki’s hipbones, and received an ungraceful push away.

“No,” he whined, but Kaneki was staring down at the gauze wrapped around his middle. Oh, yeah. Broken ribs.

“That’s—” _from me._ He could see the guilt written on Kaneki’s face. Hide pat at the bruising he could see heartily.

“They gave me some pain meds and I forgot about them,” he said dumbly: it was true. Over the entire evening, in between heading towards Kaneki’s and cutting out bullets, he’d really forgotten the pain. It was still there, but unless he focused on it, he’d forget. “So, uh . . . continue this after the shower, maybe?”

Any second now, Kaneki would brood about it, Hide knew. So instead he gave one last peck on his lips. “I forgive you. Kind of hurt like a bitch, though. Nurse said if you’d hit me a centimetre higher, than you’d probably have stopped my heart.”

“I was worried about that,” Kaneki muttered. “But . . .”

“Argh, you’re too cool for me.” Hide wanted to go back to kissing. Just that. Of course, he knew it wasn’t that simple and, well, a shower _did_ sound nice.

“I’ll have the shower that I was so nicely prepared,” Hide went on, grinning stupidly, “and then we’ll talk more. Deal?”

Hide stared at him until Kaneki hesitantly returned the smile. “Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i broke some ribs once and yes, those pain meds are good af and you can forget they hurt. 
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH MORE SOON I PROMISE


	50. Beneath the Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get a towel  
> get a glass of water  
> it gets p hot in there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmmm i hope you like it  
> i feel like this sort of dynamic has been done before buuuut yeah
> 
> i put my mind and body on the line for this

Hide wasn’t sure if he’d ever had a faster shower in his life.

Honestly, the worst part was peeling off the soaked bandages and seeing the almost-black bruise and the red puffiness around his ribs. Next came freeing his disaster of a hairstyle of its bandages and stupidly peeling off any and every band-aid he could find. It felt like being a kid again. God, he was so happy maybe he _could_ be a kid again. Throughout the entire affair, he couldn’t help but grin as he scrubbed every piece of evidence of the shitty night off himself, finally done with it.

Once he’d dried himself off, he slowly began to peel off the final dressing stuck to his neck, which stung like a bitch but was still rewarding. He hadn’t realised it during the night, but it _did_ seem kind of macabre; the thick, scabbing cut along the left of his throat, tapering to stop right under his Adam’s apple.

It could have been someone else in the mirror. The more time he spent away from it, the more he forgot that _he_ was Nagachika Hideyoshi. He could barely see the boy who had run away from home to go to Kamii. He stared at the reflection, hardly believing that _this_ face was what everyone around him saw.

And it kind of sucked. His hair had grown out too long and he had to comb it back with his fingers. The dark patch of hair was growing out like weeds, and he reminded himself _again_ to buy some bleach to fix it. Damn, Hide. He looked like a mess.

_But,_ he was a mess at _Kaneki’s_ home. The idea made the grin come back in a flood, and he pulled on the baggy clothes Kaneki had provided him with. They smelled of floral washing powder. Clean pants and an oversized band t-shirt that Hide knew wouldn’t fit anyone except maybe Amon The Giant. He couldn’t decide whether Ayato had good taste or not. He’d literally never heard of the band before.

But hey, that wasn’t really an issue when you were at your boyfriend’s house. Hide resisted the urge to wink to himself in the mirror. He failed and did it anyway. Yes. Good. Shoot some finger-guns. Fuck yes.

Crap, should he brush his teeth? He hadn’t thought of that. He didn't have anything on him and the only option would probably be to use the ones at the sink. Should he? Would they be eating? Maybe it was 6AM but that’s time for breakfast.

He decided against it. Kaneki should see his bad side as well.

Gathering up his discarded clothes, he sidled his way through the door, glancing around the room to see Kaneki at the table nursing yet another coffee. It was steaming warm, filling the room with its familiar scent.

“Hey, Kaneki,” Hide tilted his head towards where he knew the washing machine was, tucked away against the back door. “Can I use your machine?”

“The mach—oh, um, yeah!” Kaneki jumped up, nearly spilling his coffee in the process. He caught it at the last minute, carefully placing it down. Hide stifled a laugh, and Kaneki blushed shyly.

“It’s cool. I was just gonna ask, but since you’re offering to help me, I guess I can’t refuse.”

“Oh.” Kaneki bowed his head, hurrying quickly to the laundry, Hide laughing behind him. It felt light. It felt natural.

It felt comfortable, like they had all the time in the world.

Kaneki keyed in the right buttons and twisted the right knobs at the speed of light, and before Hide even knew it his clothes were tucked away in the machine after being doused in powder.

“You do this a lot, I see,” Hide remarked. “Is this another super power of yours?”

“I wish,” Kaneki mused, wiping his hands on his pants as he stood. “Maybe then I could finally keep up after Ayato’s mess.”

Hide grinned, “You guys are such a family.”

As much as he loved it, he kind of wished it included him.

“Sometimes,” Kaneki said, smiling to himself. “Other times they’re trying to kill us all.”

“You know you love it.” Hide elbowed him playfully. “So . . . breakfast time?”

“I-I thought—” Kaneki’s face went steadily reader as he left the words unsaid. “O-oh, okay.”

“What were _you_ thinking?” Even as he said the words, Hide’s smile grew. He knew _exactly_ what Kaneki had been thinking of. It wasn’t that he enjoyed teasing Kaneki, he just loved to tease Kaneki.

“I-It’s nothing!” Kaneki hurried past, back to the safety of the kitchen, leaving Hide behind to keep laughing. “It’s fine! We’ll have breakfast!”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I was joking.” Hide followed, catching his hands. “You okay?”

“You’re so embarrassing,” Kaneki tried to cover his face, but Hide stopped him, rubbing his knuckles slowly.

“I’m sorry,” Hide murmured, bringing Kaneki’s hands to mouth, unable to swallow his smile. “Forgive me?”

Kaneki made a show of thinking about it, and Hide kissed the inside of his wrist, watching his face. Kaneki looked away, and Hide grinned when he saw the treasured cheeky glint to his eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Oh?” Hide pulled him closer, resting one arm over his shoulder as he pushed the sleeve back of the other arm in his hands, continuing his trail of kisses up to the elbow. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re such a tease.” He wasn’t sure if Kaneki was trying to be serious, because he was smiling now in a way that made Hide’s insides clench. He loved Kaneki’s smile. He wished he could see it more. Leisurely, he wrapped an arm around Kaneki’s waist, pulling them together.

“Can’t help it.” He toyed with the hem of Kaneki’s shirt. “You know you love it.”

“Yeah, like your hair.”

“What has my hair ever done to you?”

“It’s a failed avant-garde art experiment.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Hide traced the shape of Kaneki’s lip with his thumb, enjoying the warmth of his face. “Since you love it so much.”

“F’you say so,” Kaneki murmured, and Hide felt his gaze intent on his lips. Experimentally, Hide licked them slowly, watching Kaneki redden as he’d been found out, his gaze drifting lower as Hide felt a hand reach into his damp hair. He leaned into it, finding Kaneki’s lips softly with his own.

He sighed against Hide, back arching around his arm. Thumbs traced the curve of his cheekbones and the next second Kaneki’s tongue was pushing past his lips and Hide let himself be swept up in the boy that had trapped him since he first spoke to him at the party, months and months ago.

Kaneki copied what he’d done to him before the shower and it surprised Hide so much he had to pull away and shiver. Kaneki was back on him in a moment, and Hide gripped at his muscular back to stay grounded, hands lost beneath the cotton of his shirt and relishing in it the reactant skin beneath his fingertips.

Hide thumbed at Kaneki’s hipbones, drawing him closer still. There were too many layers between them, too many uncomfortable layers of cotton when just for now, Hide felt like they were connected. He wanted them gone. He wanted _Kaneki_ and only Kaneki.

He shuffled them backwards, trying to reach a wall, moving blindly until someone’s foot caught on a chair and they both fell.

“Ouch,” Hide muttered, lifting himself off Kaneki. “I swear; this happens every time we make out.”

“Shh.” Kaneki pulled him back down insistently, catching Hide’s lip between his teeth. Hide followed, letting Kaneki draw him back into a kiss. “Are you hurt?”

“Nope.” Hide moved to suck on the sharp jut of his collarbone, teasing the skin in his teeth, his hands tracing the rigid muscles of his stomach slowly. “You?”

Whatever response Kaneki was about to give disappeared into a strangled gasp as Hide sucked in the hollow of his throat, flicking across a nipple with his forefinger.

Kaneki writhed under him, gasping and legs clenching around one of Hide’s. His hands were fisting in his hair, pulling and tugging _this_ shy of pain, and Hide gripped his waist. Kaneki bucked against him, thigh brushing the tightness in his pants, and Hide bit down in response, forgetting the skin between his teeth.

“Ah—shit, are you okay?” He pulled back, studying the rapidly-darkening splotch at the base of Kaneki’s throat, beading with slight blood and very clear teeth-shaped marks. “God, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay, Kaneki?”

He was pretty sure his voice jumped an octave when he saw the look on Kaneki’s face. Eyes dark, cheeks pink and flushed, red marks trailing along his neck and collarbone. Everything in Hide’s brain seized up to a halt, suddenly overly aware that he was lying on top of him, of how much of them was touching and how it wasn’t _enough._

It took all of his self-control to stay where he was before Kaneki finally spoke. “Um,” his voice sounded quiet in the room Hide had convinced himself was full of his screaming thoughts, “I don’t know if you care, but, um . . .”

Hide realised he’d been staring at the darkening bruise he’d left on Kaneki for too long, and steered his gaze back to Kaneki’s face, meekly staring back.

“Something other than the floor, maybe?” Hide supplied, receiving a rapid nod from the other, reddening at the suggestion. Hide could feel the heat rushing to his own face, aware of the tightness in his pants and the idea of _bed_ with _Kaneki._ He felt giddy with excitement of the idea, grinning as he pulled Kaneki and himself up.

The distance lasted only a second, with the instant later their lips clashing again and everything grew increasingly desperate as the promise of bed sat on their shoulders. “Um,” Kaneki murmured between kisses, “room?”

“Y-yeah.” Hide swallowed, trying to force his thoughts into words. Kaneki was still flushed pink before him, the eagerness painted onto his face in every way Hide knew resembled his own. Where was his bedroom anyway?

“I’ll turn off everything in here,” Kaneki said quickly. “And you, can, um—I’ll meet you in there. Twenty seconds.”

“Good, because I was going to say you couldn’t turn me off,” Hide laughed, and Kaneki cracked a smile.

“Get lost.”

“Got it.” Hide reluctantly let him go, feeling like they were about to start a sprint. He felt jittery with nerves and adrenaline and the rush of air that Kaneki left behind. As Kaneki hurried to the door, checking every lock and flicking off lights and kettles, Hide entered his room. It was clean as bland as he remembered it, but suddenly it felt like the most illegal place in the world.

He dropped himself onto the bed, trying to calm down. It felt too surreal to him, the entire night. Thinking about what had happened earlier was like watching a film. It couldn’t have been him at all. The more he thought, the faker everything became.

“Do you want the lights on?” Kaneki’s voice startled him out of his reverie. Hide hadn’t even thought about the lights. Streetlamps outside the window provided just enough brightness to give him the rough outlines of the room. Kaneki’s hand lingered at the light switch on the side of the door, ready to flip it.

“If you want.” Hide’s throat felt dry as he spoke. He watched Kaneki pause in thought, before deciding against it and closing the door behind him.

Suddenly the room felt very small.

Kaneki walked over slowly, and Hide could see the faint outlines of his face in the dark. With no lights, it felt secretive. It felt _naughty,_ like he was doing something worth hiding.

And he kind of loved it.

When we was close enough, Hide reached out and took his elbows, guiding him forward until Kaneki was straddling his hips on the edge of the bed. The lack of light made every touch feel a thousand times more sensitive. For a few seconds they sat in silence, the only sound their breathing in the dark.

“So what, do we kiss now or something?”

Hide was about to start laughing when he felt a pair of lips against his, stealing it out of his throat with a careful roll of hips.

“If you want,” Kaneki murmured, mirroring Hide’s response from earlier. Hot breath seared his cheek where it touched. The smirk danced against the surface of his skin through the faintest brush of lips against his.

“Hmm, maybe I do.” Hide looped an arm around his waist and pulled them down onto the mattress on top of him. “Is it an option?”

Kaneki’s breath was uneven when he answered. “Yes.”

The dark made the messiness of their kissing acceptable. Misaligned lips and clumsy teeth didn’t matter. Hide felt like the dark, the lack of vision and everything in between made it perfectly okay to show bits of himself he’d never even realised existed. It felt okay to be confident. It felt okay to be bold.

And it felt _good._

He kissed at Kaneki’s jaw and tasted the saltiness of sweat, replacing his lip with his tongue and trailing it down to his chin, making Kaneki shudder where he was perched on his lap. The sensation sent sparks through his body as the feeling of friction alleviated the growing ache in his groin.

His legs twitched and he lifted his hips against the sensation. For a split second he wondered if he’d gone too far when Kaneki paused, cracking open an eye to see the blurred edges of Kaneki’s shape leaning forward and pressing sloppy kisses along his cheek until he found his lips. Hide kissed back, hands tangling themselves in his hair and finding bottomless contentment in the reciprocated actions.

Slowly, he felt Kaneki start to move his hips again, grinding against him gently at first, gradually letting his weight sink against him, a mixture of delicious friction and pressure and perfect _alignment,_ holy _shit._

“Feel good?” Kaneki’s voice was husky and breathless in his ear, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t go straight to his crotch. Hide grabbed at him to try and keep his head, his hands finding the curve of Kaneki’s muscled ass and gripping at the shape beneath the thick cotton pants he was wearing.

“Yeah,” he breathed as Kaneki locked their hips together for a particularly long time. “Yes, fuck, fuck fuck it’s so _good,_ Kaneki—”

“Just this once,” Kaneki said, “just this once, I want to make you feel good. Even if . . .” his voice caught as Hide’s hands ran up his sides, pushing up his shirt until his fingers sat in the valleys of his ribs.

“Don’t . . . stress yourself.” Hide wished he could stop himself from moving with Kaneki’s grinding to talk, but he couldn’t make himself _stop._ “Just . . . oh fucking _shit,_ Kaneki—” his voice nearly cracked as Kaneki worked up the hem off his t-shirt, exposing his chest and even the small amount of skin to skin contact made everything _that_ much more intense. Kaneki shifted, taking a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before rolling it between his teeth. It should have been painful but everything in Hide’s head was the skin and the grinding and the growing ache in every fibre of his body because he had wanted _this_ for so long without even realising it.

“Just this once, let me be the one who lets _you_ feel good,” Kaneki released the poor thing and helped Hide lie properly on the bed, hands smooth and gentle, but the touch still simmering with the same intensity as before. As Hide pulled the shirt off over his head, he studied the way the faint light painted his outline, the skin of his neck and cheek shining with sweat and hair glowing white. “Even if I can only do it like this.”

“Well in that case you’re doing a fucking amazing job.” For a second they were both silent, breathing heavy and ragged enough to fill the room. Hide wasn’t sure what changed, but everything became slow and painfully delicate, as if the caressing of fingers would leave a bruise. He stared at the slim, pale shape of Kaneki Ken, straddling his hips in the dark, and wondered how the fuck he had met him at _the right time,_ at the right _place,_ and how somehow they were here.

He took Kaneki’s hands, massaging the shape of his knuckles and tracing circles on his wrist. It sent a dull warmth through him, feeling the wiry muscles of his forearm, running his palm over soft skin, and the swell of his biceps that disappeared under cotton. The room was so _quiet,_ the faint buzz of cicadas in the humid spring weather was so far away, beyond the street lamps and the hum of ACs it felt like they were in a different dimension.

Kaneki’s breathing was shallow as Hide thumbed the shape of his collarbone, palming the shape of his chest and ribs, pausing at his stomach.

“I . . . can take it off.” Kaneki guided Hide’s hands to the hem of his shirt. “If you want.”

“You’re asking me if I want to with a raging boner,” Hide noted, and his hands on Kaneki’s sides felt the rise and fall of the stuttering, silent laugh he couldn’t hear. He loved it. “But,” he went on, throat dry, “I want you to be the one to choose. I want you to be confident enough to tell me ‘yes’, _or_ to tell me ‘no’. Yeah?”

Kaneki was silent for a beat, ducking his head in what Hide hoped was happiness. “No one’s told me that before.”

Maybe Kaneki opening himself up like this was what Hide had really been waiting for.

“You could have just said ‘fuck me’ and made it easier.”

Or maybe not.

“Well you’re welcome to.” Hide rubbed at his sides heartily, grinning. “I mean, like, if you want to.”

“Why do I have to choose?” He could hear the pout in his voice from a mile away. “Besides, I can’t even tell what you want.”

“You’re cute when you complain.” Painfully slow, Hide trailed his hands down past Kaneki’s sides to wrap around the back of his thighs. He saw a shiver dance up his spine and pushed himself up. Kaneki’s head shot up with the movement, and this close, sitting in the beam of light, he saw how dark Kaneki’s eyes had become behind the tentativeness of his expression.

“What can I do, Hide?” His voice was soft and unsure, but the hunger in his eyes betrayed him. Hide suddenly became aware of the cool hands on his shoulders, thumbing at his jaw in what Hide could only call the _right_ place in the _right_ way. “What do you want?”

So much of them was ready to touch, to feel, to burn, alone in a dark room and the distance between them rapidly fading away.

“You,” Hide murmured, pressing their lips together.

There was no room for sweetness or uncertainty. It was too messy and violent and hungry for anything else other than each other. He fell back against the bed, his tongue searching for the gasping and moaning that he could extract from Kaneki’s throat. Hair was between his fingers, damp with shower water and sweat, chilling him where everything burned. He tugged at it, and Kaneki groaned into his mouth.

He felt rather than realised the blazing trail of kisses down his cheek until Kaneki found the spot beneath his ear and sucked a hickey to the surface in a way Hide knew was above and _beyond_ the way kissing was meant to be done and he cursed, writhing and grabbing because it was too good and too _much._

Calloused hands guided his hands to Kaneki’s shirt again, and Hide pushed it up under his armpits, pulling him closer and delighting in the skin contact that had become a craving. It was smooth under his hands, slim and muscular and moving with him.

“Is it dark?” Kaneki spoke into his ear, so low Hide shivered from the sound. Pausing and letting the world come back into focus as he sat up. “Can you see anything?”

“I can see the most beautiful boy in the world,” Hide replied dumbly, reaching for him. “And he’s sitting on my dick.”

Kaneki gave Hide more of his breathy laughter, patting his hands away. “Can you see a lot?”

In his hazy mind, Hide connected the dots that Kaneki was asking about the shirt. The shirt and everything Kaneki had tried to hide beneath it. He was going to take it off.

_Holy shit, Kaneki was going to take it off._

“No,” Hide shook his head quickly. “No, I can’t see a lot. Besides, I won’t be looking a lot. Anyway,” He rubbed at Kaneki’s knees. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Hide didn’t realise someone taking off their shirt could be so fucking _sexy._ Even in the dark, the shaped edges of his sculpted body stood out enough to make him stop breathing. Kaneki cast it aside like it was the smoothest, most natural thing in the world, and Hide’s brain skidded to a halt.

_Kaneki was so fucking hot._

Wordlessly, he leaned back down, languidly letting a centimetre of skin touch at a time until they were pressed together, kissing and grinding again. Greedily Hide let his hands explore Kaneki’s back, finding every curve and shape and muscle, trying to hold all of him in his hands as the friction on his groin threatened to overcome him.

The room felt overly empty as Kaneki moved away, trailing butterfly kisses down his chest and stomach, pushing his legs apart and suddenly Hide _knew_ what was coming and could have laughed because in all his life, he never thought it would be _Kaneki._

“Can I?” Cool hands rubbed at his hip. His legs were shaking and he hadn’t even realised. He felt harder than he’d ever been in his _life_ and—

“ _Yes_.” It didn’t sound like himself. “Fuck, yes you can. Yes, yes, _yes._ ”

Kaneki kissed at his navel as he tugged down his pants, and Hide felt his fingers pat at the skin again until Kaneki actually looked at what he was doing.

“You’re not wearing underwear.”

Hide didn’t trust himself to form a response, instead shivering when Kaneki sat up, and the cold air bit into his skin. The hand he left behind to massage his hip didn’t help as Kaneki threw his pants into the dark corners of the room.

“Were you expecting to get rid of them soon?” Hands massaged his inner thighs, burning hot in a completely different way to before.

“Fuck,” Hide gripped at his own hair as Kaneki took him his hand, smearing precome across the head, lightly pumping him. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

Kaneki pried a hand free and placed it on his head. “For security.”

“What? Wait—oh, _fuck_ —”

Kaneki bobbed his head, licking up the underside of his shaft so slowly Hide could have pulled his hair out with how hard he held on. It took so little from Kaneki but any second he was about to come _undone_. _Fuck._

He tongued at the slit, massaging the base with his hand while he locked eyes with Hide, watching carefully for any discomfort before taking his entirety into his mouth and sinking down. Hide couldn’t even hear himself beyond the rushing of blood in his ears, but the sting in his throat made him think he was probably yelling.

Kaneki had just started and he was so _close._ Everything burned, the hotness of Kaneki’s mouth on him was making the familiar heat gather and he _knew_ what was coming.

For a moment, Kaneki pulled away to catch his breath. Hide whined, struggling against the urge to follow the heat of his mouth realising how fucking _cold_ everything was without Kaneki there, touching him.

“Feel good?” Kaneki rubbed at his trembling hips, and Hide loosened the grip on his hair. He pressed his head back into the pillow, nodding quickly.

“So good. Too _fucking_ — argh!” His eyes snapped open, watching as Kaneki held down waist, sinking further and further down until he reached the base, doing the _thing_ with his tongue and Hide’s hips stuttered under his grip as Kaneki moved back up, sucking harshly.

He could have come right there, but in an instant Kaneki was diving down again, and the sheer sight of his length disappearing into Kaneki’s throat threatened to break him, until he felt Kaneki move his _throat_ and his self-control shattered, coming hard into the back of his throat with a strangled cry.

Thank God Kaneki knew what he was doing, staying on his head until he was done, and Hide watched in some distant fascination as he swallowed it all.

He was so fucking in love with Kaneki Ken.

Without the commotion, the room faded back into hollow silence, carrying only the sound of ragged breathing.

“What . . . what about you?” Hide asked once the post-orgasm haze had cleared enough. “Kaneki?”

“You don’t need to,” Kaneki crawled over him, laying down beside him despite the _very_ obvious bulge in his pants. “I said . . .”

Hide forced his jelly lower half to move, rolling on top of him quickly. Kaneki’s breathing hitched, face pinkish in the pre-dawn gloom that had settled in the room without either of them noticing.

“You literally just deep-throated me,” Hide pecked at his lips, malleable under him and ready to kiss him again and again that filled him with warmth. “We have to take care of you, now.”

Hide forced a hand between them, pressing against Kaneki’s stomach and trailing it down until he reached the waistband of his pants.

Kaneki held his shoulders in a vice, almost painful. Hide paused, voice soft. “We don’t have to,” he said. “If you don’t want me to, tell me.”

“No, I—” he watched Kaneki chew on his lip in thought. “It’s just—I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Hide traced circles on his skin. “It's okay, really.”

Kaneki took an audible breath under him, before nodding quickly. “Please do it.”

“You don’t need to force yourself.”

_“Hide.”_ The set of nervous determination on his face made Hide’s heart swell. “You can.”

Hide peppered kisses across his face as he reached down to trace the shape of him in Kaneki’s pants, palming and pulling down his boxers, kicking the unneeded articles away.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Hide asked again, and Kaneki’s face was so sour Hide’s _eyes_ watered. “Absolutely?”

Kaneki pulled him closer, crushing their mouths together. “Really. Absolutely. Yes.”

As soon as he closed his hand around the shaft, Kaneki whimpered against his mouth, arms tightening as he arched into the touch. Hide murmured praise against his neck, blindly stroking until Kaneki shuddered underneath him, and Hide felt the warm wetness between them before he’d even realised what had happened.

Kaneki was stuttering his name like it was the only word he knew, and Hide kissed at his neck delicately, wicking away the beads of sweat.

“You okay?” Hide wiped the sweaty bangs off Kaneki’s face. The grey light made Kaneki’s face smooth and faint, sweaty breathless beneath him. Wordlessly, he nodded, swallowing dryly.

“Hide,” he repeated, eyes shining. “Hide, I— you— God, _Hide—_ ” his throat caught, and at that moment the most terrifying thing in the world was the idea of Kaneki crying. Hide pulled him close, pressing his head against his chest.

“I thought _I_ was emotional,” Hide joked, carding through his hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.” Kaneki shook in his arms, but there were no tears. “I’m here,” he said again, softer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The light grew paler as they lay there, until Kaneki calmed down and Hide picked up something cotton from the ground and used it to clean them up. Time was an infinite commodity, and there was no rush for anything as he burrowed under the sheets and blankets with Kaneki, receiving precious soft smiles and a warm body to hold.

“I love you,” Hide said as he kissed his forehead. “So much.”

Three words had never felt weaker to say. Just being there with him made everything fade into the background. Even if Kaneki needed him, Hide didn’t know where he’d be without him.

“Hey, Hide?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . .” Kaneki buried his face in Hide’s shoulder. “Stay.”

“Of course.”

“With me.” Kaneki’s hand tightened around his arm. “Please, don’t . . . don’t leave me.”

_Don’t let me lose you._

Hide wondered. He wondered about Kaneki’s past. He wondered what Touka had meant when she told him how easily Kaneki trusted. He wondered if he was afraid to say what he was thinking. He wondered if Kaneki was scared of being selfish. He wondered whether it was hard for Kaneki to ask him that, if he’d been betrayed by those same words before.

“You’re no rabbit,” Hide rubbed at his back absentmindedly. “You’d be fine without me.”

Silence stretched between them, and Hide gave in first. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay forever if you’re here.”

Kaneki let out a contented sigh, and Hide pat his back. The grey light of a clear spring morning was filling the room, bathing everything in a peculiar monochrome tint that could have been from another time. Another world. Something where the world outside couldn’t touch.

It was the same grey as Kaneki’s eyes, Hide decided: Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing smut /sweats sorry if it was terrible  
> I have a stupid complex that "cock" just looks so dumb when I write it so hey let's just pretend the word don't exist amirite  
> im such a child
> 
> hopefully we can get back to faster updates i really didnt want to spend this long on a chapter  
> YEA COME YELL AT ME IF IT WAS BAD. I NEED A LOT OF HELP, I KNOW.
> 
> thank you very much for reading! ^^ I really appreciate that you guys take the time to read updates and even leave kind words and kudos. Really. thank you all so much!


	51. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kaneki is sad and stays sad but Hide's got no time for his bullshit (thank g)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro  
> exams are so fkng hard.  
> Thank you all for your patience!

_Kaneki Ken loved his mother._

_He watched her hands while she finely chopped vegetables, the tender crispness that accompanied the regular, methodical movements. He liked watching her from over his schoolwork at the table, when her attention was focused elsewhere and she seemed less stressed than when she met his gaze. In the pan, a hamburger was frying for them both to share. Last week, he’d been able to have one all to himself. It was a special treat. His mother had one of her own as well._

_He knew that she wouldn’t eat most of her half to give to him. Kaneki knew it already, and even when he was tempted to ask her if she was sure, she knew the sting that would come with it. Of course she was sure. She was kind and certain._

_Kaneki Ken loved his mother._

_Asaoka had come by that day. Kaneki had tried not to be resentful when he watched his mother hand over the cash. Cash that could have been used to buy them each a hamburger. Cash that could have been used to let her take a shift off and sleep more. Cash that could have been used to have her smile at him._

_Kaneki already knew how the day would go. His mother seemed secured when he got good grades at school, so he would put his all into work. When he was done, they would eat. He would finish fast. When they were done eating, he would try to help with the dishes until she told him off for being too short, and he would make the futon for the night._

_They couldn’t afford a heater of any kind, so they shared two blankets and one mattress between them, rolled out onto the floor._

_For Kaneki, the three-roomed apartment was all he ever wanted or needed in life. One room, always closed off when his mother was home, was his father’s study. At the end of the living room was the hanging bead curtain that tinkled when he walked through it, entering the kitchen. It was small. It was safe._

_One day, his mother slept in. She was always collected around Kaneki. She did not raise her voice in the wee hours to wake their neighbours for her graveyard shift at work. That morning, she left in a hurry. She did not have time to say goodbye to Kaneki._

_She never had the chance._

_It would take six years for his love for her to waver._

* * *

 

The bile was back in his throat, harsh and sour, biting into the back of his tongue. Despite the warmth and safety of the bed, he extracted himself as quickly as he could, rushing towards the bathroom, following a muscle-memorised path and closing the door before emptying his stomach into the toilet.

His hands shook where they gripped at the porcelain, white-knuckled and still groggy from sleep. He retched the last of it, coughing dryly before flushing. It was a routine. A routine he had until recently neglected.

It had been about her, this time. His mother. As he flushed, he couldn’t help but watch the disgusting remains of his stomach drift away, being replaced with clean water. Of all the people it was, it was her. There was no Jason nightmare, no Kanou, no Rize breathing down his neck—not even people dying. It was Mrs Kaneki, long dead and gone and leaving him in a hurry.

They always left him in a great hurry.

He washed his face in the sink. He brushed his teeth free of the evidence, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The healing overnight had taken its toll; the fat in his cheeks had thinned again, his eyes more hollowed than ever. God. This was the face Hide would wake up to, later. Just the thought made him want to retch again.

He studied his shoulders and chest, all he could see in the mirror. He traced the shapes in the skin, ugly and raised. Evidence. Brands. Curses. Things people had left him with. He could not see any blood on his hands yet he could see the way their blades had cut their presence into his being, swallowed up by Kanou’s experiments and left forever.

But there was none of Hide.

He traced at the collarbone where Hide had left a bruise, but none was left. It was healed and gone. How ironic.

Yet everything from _Jason—_

Kaneki had been so scared of Hide touching him. He had cared so _much_ about something he was used to having destroyed. He had cared about how Hide saw him. He never realised how aware of the truth he had been until it had been right there, laughing at him.

He often it forgot around Hide. He forgot that he had nothing left.

How would he ever go back, looking like this?

He couldn’t, but he was so _selfish._ He was so _weak._ He just wanted to go back to that bed, to that _Hide,_ and he wanted to lie in his arms again and forget about everything that wasn’t Nagachika himself. God, he wanted that so bad and it was so _dumb._

Kaneki sighed, checking again to make sure he was sufficiently cleaned up. The safety of the bathroom was long behind him when he made it back to his own bedroom, unable to do anything but pause and watch Hide sleep for a few beats. He was still asleep, tanned shoulders free of the tangle of sheets Kaneki had left behind and his hair forming the beginnings of a bedhead. It was such a warm sight he had to look away, swallowing the sadness that came with it.

Love was not infinite. Not even Hide’s, and Kaneki knew it.

He sighed again, pulling on some clothes and cleaning up the mess they’d left behind. He couldn’t even tell Hide. He couldn’t force the words out of his mouth even though they had been begging to be said. He had wanted to say it, too. There was no reason _not_ to say it, but he hadn’t.

So he sighed. Again, and again.

_I love you._

Human patience could be tested. It could break. It could run out. Until not very long ago, that was the mind of patience Kaneki was used to: frail and dying quickly.

It could have been easier for both of them if Hide had never found him—no, if Kaneki had never found _him._

That night at the party, what had he been thinking? So charmed by an out-of-place country bumpkin that he gave away everything. He wasn’t meant to be seen. He wasn’t meant to talk. He wasn’t meant to grow attached to people who could die. He’d broken the rule twice with Ayato and Touka, and now he was breaking it a third time.

_“Third time’s the charm.”_ So many people had said it. So many people, and it had been right every time.

It would all fall to ruin in the end, just like him.

In that moment, he thought of Eto. Oh, how she delighted in watching things fail. She set things up to explode for the sheer satisfaction of destruction. Watching someone like Hide drift away would be beautiful, Kaneki realised, because anything with Hide involved couldn’t be anything else.

He hated himself for being so in love for something so doomed to fail.

Kaneki cracked open a window to let in some fresh air. The view was only a narrow gap between two buildings to the inner part of the city, but it was the best view in their apartment. Kaneki regretted not letting Touka choose the room, but he’d taken it because of the bathroom accessibility. At the time, he hadn’t even considered her feelings.

He hadn’t considered a lot of things for a long time.

He’d been staring too long. Beside him, Hide stirred and Kaneki tried to escape to the kitchen, but Hide was awake enough to catch his wrist lightly.

“You’re doin’ . . . the thing . . . again.” Hide yawned through his words, rubbing his eyes. “You think so loud, you know that?”

Kaneki’s arm burned with warmth, and he swallowed hard. “Sorry for waking you,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“Sleeping is _so_ not fun when you’re alone,” Hide told him, releasing his arm to sit up. The sheets fell away, and Kaneki winced at the sight of puffy, swollen ribs and the dark bruise on his sternum from the night before. There were hickies on his neck that Kaneki remembered making, and suddenly he felt even worse for ever thinking so positively.

“Sorry.”

Hide’s smile was easy, even though Kaneki knew the pained tightness of the brow too well. His ribs.

“Lie back down,” Kaneki said quickly, pushing against his shoulders. “I’ll get some _Nurofen_ —”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hide wouldn’t budge. His smile grew, and suddenly he was too warm for Kaneki touch. He retracted his hands quickly, but Hide caught them. God, Hide was going to set him on _fire_ —

“You’re okay, yeah?”

_Touching was not warm. Touching made his bones turn to ice. God, he_ hated _being touched—_

“Yeah,” he lied. He considered repeating the ‘ _I’m okay’,_ but he didn’t trust his mouth to form the words. Hide would see through it, he was sure. Maybe he already had. He watched for any sign of Hide’s smile falling, but it didn’t even waver.

Patience was finite. Good was finite. Love was—

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Hide told him gently. “Because to be honest, you look kind of shit.”

“I always look like this.”

Hide raised a sceptical eyebrow, but said nothing. His hands were too warm. Kaneki felt as if he’d shoved them into hot coals. Normally he could shrug it off, even if contact made him ill. Touching Hide before had never been this difficult, it had—

He’d taken it all for granted, hadn’t he?

“I like to imagine you as far more attractive,” Hide grinned, rubbing his knuckles. Too much. Too _much._

“I’ll, um—I can get some _Nurofen._ You just . . . you can take a shower if you want—”

Hide beamed at him, teeth flashing brightly. He released Kaneki’s hands in favour of grabbing an elbow and trying to pull himself to his feet.

Kaneki was not a child. He knew he wasn’t. Seeing someone naked wasn’t a big thing—it really _wasn’t,_ he’d seen _so many_ naked people—and yet—

“Y-You can do it yourself, right? I shouldn’t—um, do you want clothes? Do you—”

Hide blinked at him, now on his feet, uncomprehending. Kaneki watched, face burning and elbow growing warmer by the second as Hide’s hand remained there, as Hide glanced down, then back up at Kaneki.

“Like what you see?”

“N-no! I mean, um”— _Yes? No?—“_ I shouldn’t!”

Hide snickered behind his hand, and Kaneki had never felt more embarrassed. He kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, not daring to look back. God, he was so stupid. So, So stupid—he could think all he wanted and Hide didn’t—it was like Hide went _out of his way_ —

_“Can’t you do anything right, Kaneki?”_

Hide laughed openly, rustling Kaneki’s hair. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

What?

Hide struck a pose, grinning wildly. “Paint me like one of your French women, Kaneki!”

Lost for an alternative, Kaneki muttered a dry “I have no experience with French women.”

“Well, that sucks,” Hide winced as he tried to shift himself out of the position he’d put himself in. “Now neither of us can make the joke, huh.”

Hide winced again, hissing as broken ribs took unwelcome weight. Kaneki made sure to keep his eyes on Hide’s shoulders as he grabbed an arm to steady him, letting Hide lean against him.

“Thanks,” Hide pecked him on the cheek and Kaneki was sure he was on fire. This wasn’t how it worked. This wasn’t how it _worked_ —

“O, Dark Kaneki, show me . . .” Hide paused, thinking of a way to end the phrase as Kaneki helped him into the bathroom. “The cute side of Kaneki Ken!”

_Cute side?_

“Just get that thing away before it takes an eye out.”

“That sure isn’t what you were saying last night, Kaneki.”

This time his face was flaming. For a second he prayed Hide wouldn’t see it, but as soon as his caramel gaze fell on the glowing tips of his ears, he burst out laughing. God, Kaneki wanted to crawl into a shell. Why did Hide have to be so _infinite_? It would have been so much easier if he had just—

“I’m embarrassing you, sorry.” Hide tapped his nose lightly. “I can’t help it. You’re too cute, _tsundere._ ”

“Just get in the fucking shower, Hide.”

“So early, yet so done.” Hide grinned, and for a second Kaneki nearly grinned back. Why _was_ he so embarrassed? Was it because he was so wrong about Hide? Was it because he was so used to receiving the worst he felt so _inadequate_ receiving the best? Hide was the best, and there was no argument about it.

It was because he was only good at two things, really: murder and sex. He was so much _less_ than Hide and yet—and _yet_ —

“You’re doing that thing again.” Hide reached past him to turn on the taps, hands shaking slightly with the effort. “Y’know, the thing where you get sad all of the sudden.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Yeah, and I’m not naked.” With the water running, Hide turned back to face him. He planted a hand on each of Kaneki’s shoulders, and if he thought they were burning before then they were _lava_ now, melting away at the ice that held him together. Turning him into liquid. It was something else that Kaneki didn’t know what to do with. Something he’d never _experienced._

“What are you sad about this time?” Hide gave him that smile— _that_ smile, like he had all the time in the world to hesitate before he told him, that everything would be okay and that outside this apartment, the world was not going to shit and it was _outside here_ that had changed him. _That_ smile.

It was that smile that made him say it.

“I’m not good enough,” Kaneki told him, wishing tears would form but all he got was a knot in the stomach and numbness in his hands. They always went numb. It was like they’d forgotten what they were there to _do_ they’d been removed so many times. “I’m—I keep saying it but it never _changes,_ Hide, I’m—”

A pair of lips cut him off, and _God,_ he sounded so pathetic whimpering against them, grabbing at his hair and trying to find more of that warmth. He wanted to burn. He _wanted_ to be ashes again, this was so _hard_.

“You’re more than enough,” Hide murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to his forehead and leaving his lips there. “You’re _so much_ more than what you think, okay? You’re everything I could have dreamed of and more.”

_Cry. Cry, cry, cry cry CRY, DAMMIT!_

He wished he had an exit for the mess that he knew was behind his eyes, but there was no way to ever let it out again. There was no relief. The pain stayed and he didn’t know how to change it. He wanted to prove to Hide that he had feelings—that he had _something_ of meaning, but he _couldn’t._ No matter how hard he tried, he was clutching at straws and it never improved.

There were times when Hide was direct like this, and Kaneki didn’t know what to do. In the books he read, tragic loving tales where the heroine is so destined to die a gruesome fate, there was always some exchange of raw emotion. There was always subordinate clauses and semicolons and flowing sentences for lines and lines, each comma fading into another, richer expression and _God,_ Kaneki wished he was human enough to at least have a shred of it. Just one phrase. Just one comma. Just _one tear._

But there was nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, voice faint but disgustingly steady. “I wish I could let you know—I wish I could—”

“It’s okay,” Hide murmured, “I know. I always know.”

And somehow Kaneki believed him.

* * *

 

The convenience store was empty. Graffiti was on the store windows, and tape held together the cracks in the glass. The cashier looked bored, probably several hours into his shift and with a textbook open behind the counter to study from. Kaneki pulled the cap lower over his eyes, trying not to look suspicious as he slipped two boxes of _Nurofen_ into his pocket.

Trying to seem casual, he browsed the other shelves. In his hand he had a measly 450 yen. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover the price of two boxes of the painkillers, but it might buy him a box of cigarettes as cover.

He continued looking around until he stumbled upon an aisle containing hair dye. Thinking of the dark patch in Hide’s hair, he wandered towards the blonde one. A quick scan told him the box contained some bleach and toner, and would probably do the job. The price? 700 yen too much.

He slipped it into the front pocket of his hoodie, checking to see how much it stood out. It was too obvious, so standing at the opposite end of an aisle to the only other person in the store, the cashier, he slipped it into the back of his pants, pulling the baggy jumper over the top to hide it.

Kaneki wished he wasn’t so good at shoplifting, really.

He walked up to the counter casually, asking for the cheapest box of cigarettes they had: 430 yen. As the cashier leaned over to grab them from the shelf, Kaneki slipped two chocolate bars into his pocket soundlessly.

The exchange was brief and uneventful. The cashier noticed nothing abnormal about him at all, despite the oddly large glasses and cap, an oversized hoodie despite the warm day. Nothing. He was handed back the change and nodded a polite thanks before heading to the exit.

It was a gamble, but when the scanners went off the cashier waved him away. “They do that sometimes for cigarettes, sorry. Thank you for shopping.”

It was too hot.

It was too hot, yet he felt the familiar ice in his gut again. Shoplifting was too _easy._ Everything was back to front and he hated everything about it. He tried his best to blank it out, instead focusing on how he’d get the money they needed from Eto for the work. Would she come to the bar? Was he expected to find her?

And then, out of nowhere, why had he been shot?

At the time he hadn’t even spared a thought. He was too caught up in not getting captured, not letting _V_ of all groups take him that he hadn’t even realised. He was running away. He had been running away and there was one shot, and then another. The second hit him.

Had Eto fired first? If not her, then who else?

He climbed the stairs to the apartment, still trying to think. Why _had_ she chosen that night, of all nights, to attack? Why so suddenly? Why had the _CCG_ come? Why had they been so prepared despite there being no prior warning for Hide?

He unlocked the first bolt, then the next three, then jingled his keys around a bit and undid the rest. The first thing he noticed after stepping inside was the smell of coffee and . . . food? It was oily and he could hear it frying, but it wasn’t _bad,_ he guessed . . .

“Welcome back!” Hide called from the kitchen, and Kaneki felt a jolt run through him. Was that whole fiasco from the bathroom under the rug? Was the moment between his assurances that Hide could shower alone and his return now a complete healing process?

Or was Hide just eager to move past it?

He toed off his shoes, pulling out the box of dye from his pants and putting it on the table. Next he pulled out the two packets of _Nurofen,_ not meeting Hide’s eyes. He tossed his keys down and removed the glasses and cap, but found Hide still intently staring at the egg he was trying to fry.

“Nice shoplifting, ya delinquent,” Hide said without looking at him. Kaneki had only noticed it last night when Hide was . . . like _that,_ but he had an accent sometimes. As well as a dialect that came out.

He didn’t let himself like it that much.

But he did.

God, he loved it.

“I didn’t get paid,” he said. “Sorry.”

Hide gasped, neglecting the pan for an instant to shake Kaneki by the shoulders. “Don’t apologise! Damn, I’d never have the skills for that. You just—oh _shit,_ the eggs—”

As Hide fretted over the near disaster, Kaneki pulled out a chocolate bar and tore it open, pressing it into Hide’s hands while he took the pan instead, flipping the yellow mash.

“You could have told me you could cook.”

“Barely.” Hide handed him the chopsticks, and Kaneki used them to mix. He turned down the gas, trying to pick apart the burned clumps. The smell of frying oil nearly made him sick, but this time it was different. He heard Hide chew the chocolate thoughtfully beside him, and reached for one of the plates Hide had set out.

“What did you even make?”

“Scrambled eggs!” Hide declared in the worst English Kaneki had ever heard, pumping a fist before wincing. “It’s a western thing. I watched a British Cooking show once and it looked pretty simple.”

“I’ve never had it.” Kaneki split the portion, giving Hide’s plate a far larger serve. He flicked the gas off quickly, giving himself the dirty chopsticks and finding a new pair for Hide. “Have you?”

“Nope.” Hide was already sitting at the table, grinning and ready to eat. Kaneki’s traitorous mouth gave in and smiled. He handed him the plate before reaching around and winding open the window. The coffee was nearly done, and he brought it to the table with his own food.

He could force it down. It would be easy. He had to eat anyway.

“It was meant to have some pepper and salt,” Hide said, waiting for Kaneki to sit. “But I couldn’t find them in your cupboard so I improvised with some ramen powders.”

If Kaneki were drinking the coffee he was currently pouring, he would have chocked.

“Oh, I also have no idea how to make good coffee, so sorry if it’s shit or something.”

“I’ve had worse.” Kaneki handed Hide a mug filled with the steaming liquid. “There should be some milk in the fridge.”

“Nah, I can’t lose to you just yet.” Hide winked, and Kaneki scowled, which only made Hide burst out laughing.

“Shoplifting, cooking, _kissing,_ ” Hide leaned on the extra word, “and a bunch of other things—is there anything you _can’t_ do, Kaneki?”

“Replicate human customs and rituals.”

He’d meant it as a joke, and Hide had laughed, but this time Hide was watching him closely. “You seem to do it just fine, in my opinion.”

Unsure of what to say, Kaneki sipped at the coffee. Sure enough, there were grains he had to bite through, and maybe it didn’t taste _exactly_ the same, but it wasn’t like his shitty taste buds were useful or anything. He set the cup down and after glancing to make sure Hide wasn’t looking, he ate the eggs as quickly as he could so he wouldn’t have time to reminisce over how _bad_ the texture was.

“Jesus, man. Slow down before you choke.”

Kaneki swallowed hard, satisfied he’d eaten enough. Hide was still watching him, and suddenly all he could think of was how _bad_ he was at everything. They couldn’t even share a _meal_ —

“That was some fast eating,” Hide noted, his own plate still full. “Were they that bad?”

“N-No, they were good!” For emphasis, Kaneki ate one of the last bits, swallowing it before it had time to move over his tongue. “Really good!”

“You can tell me if they were bad,” Hide shrugged. “I mean, all we had _were_ ramen toppings . . .”

_It’s fine. I can’t taste it. I can’t taste anything._

“It was a good call.”

Hide grinned so wide Kaneki returned it softly. He knew it would end eventually. He knew it wouldn’t keep going forever with all his secrets and problems. He knew already.

But it was nice to enjoy while it lasted.

“I mean, at least you’re eating after you threw up your guts this morning.”

Kaneki dropped his chopsticks.

* * *

 

Yoshitoki regarded the file in front of him. Maybe Nagachika overall was better at gaining information, but there was a certain powerlessness about their new recruit that made it incredibly _easy_ for people to slip up and tell them the things they normally wouldn’t.

“Looks like our operation last night was a success.” He placed the file down, looking his son, Matsuri, in the eyes.

“Have him become a partner of Nagachika in the next one. If we can train him up, we can get rid of Nagachika in the long run.”

Yoshitoki gave the file another once-over as Matsuri dismissed himself. The new recruit _was_ useful. And to top it off, one of the few successful Quinx.

_Mutsuki Tooru,_ he read. This would be interesting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only 5 exams left~~~~
> 
> Also I did some calculations, and decided that if I wanted to finish this story in time I'd have to go back to updating every second day. I'll do it. But first just let me, like, finish exams. Hopefully because summer break is coming at me like freight train I can have a few days when we get an update every day. I'm aiming to have this story done by March 2017.
> 
> Thank you guys so so much for reading! New chapter soon ^^


	52. Infra 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itori told him to keep tabs on those who had recieved illegal organ transplants.  
> Hide discovers why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u have a plushie ready i cried planning this and it wasnt because of my grades
> 
> short and sharp right behind the eyes were tears come out
> 
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE I WISH I COULD HUG ALL OF YOU IM SORRY I HAVE TO THANK YOU LIKE THIS
> 
> p.s. i recommend listening to Infra 6 by Max Richter for the full Feels experience. cry with me, it's okay

Akira tugged down the collar of his shirt, examining the fading bruise under his ear and raising an eyebrow, thoroughly amused at his lame attempts to hide it.

“Were they trying to suck your blood or something?” Akira asked smugly, releasing him. It had been a week and the bruise had only recently started to fade. Hide offered a sheepish grin, running a hand through his freshly-dyed hair.

“Something like that.”

“Keep your kinks to yourself, Hide.” Akira gave him The Look before turning away, reshuffling the papers in her grasp. It was nearly an inch thick, varying shades of yellow and white from age. She’d probably gone through the entire hardcopy archives looking for them. “And get back to work.”

“Aye, aye!” he saluted, giving the brightest grin he could in an attempt to lift her spirits. He knew what those files were for. They were for Seidou.

She brightened a little, eyes softening in the beginnings of a smile that didn’t make it to her mouth. Her makeup was hastily applied, or maybe it was the remainder’s of yesterday, because he could see the bags under her eyes clearly despite the length and volume of her lashes and the concealer that had started to crack around her nose. Her hair, however, was impeccable as always.

Mado Akira never _truly_ became unhinged. Hide was grateful for that.

“Get back to work, Rank Three.”

He wasn’t sure what ‘work’ consisted of just yet, but he watched her leave the room before finally turning to his desk. Amon had left for a coffee break after pulling an all-nighter. The man had become more and more private as of late and Hide wasn’t sure why. Normally he wore his emotions on his sleeve, but something was different.

He wasn't sure just yet.

Suzuya and Shinohara were rarely in, instead choosing field work Akira made up reports and statistics for to keep Suzuya busy. He wasn’t sure of the exact figures, but they were doing well.

Everyone was so busy except for him.

Hide wasn’t really sure what to make of the leads he had.

It hadn’t taken long to figure out what Itori had wanted him to look into: recipients of illegal organs. He assumed she had meant Kaneki, since she had that familiar grin on her face, and so he refined it to blood type AB. The people mentioned all seemed to be lower-class who Hide knew would have no hope of paying for illegally trafficked organs, leading him to only one conclusion: the real culprits were hiding, and the CCG server had no data on them.

It took him six hours and fourteen different hacking systems to get into the Federal Police’s server and another two hours to reach the classified documents.

The illegal organ trade was far deeper than he had anticipated.

Politicians. Millionaires. Famous entrepreneurs. Over forty men and women charged with it. Two of them were already dead from other illnesses and one was dead, killed in the Restaurant fiasco.

Slowly, he read through the list: heart transplants, livers, lungs, bone marrow, pancreas, kidneys, major blood vessels, eyes . . . the list was too long for him to read properly. The thought of organs being stolen from unwilling patients made him sick.

He pushed himself away from the desk, so immersed in his work he hadn’t looked up when Amon came in hours ago, or when Akira had left. His phone lay neglected beside him, and when he checked it he noticed he had eight messages from Kaneki.

_Kaneki._

Why would Itori have wanted him to look into this? She’d said to keep tabs on them, and he had every intention of doing so. But why were they important?

They had to relate to Kaneki.

His hands were shaking as he put his phone down, the reason already in his mind. He felt his throat tighten painfully, but he swallowed against it. He went into the search bar, refining it to crimes that had happened between June three years ago and December of the year before last.

_Eleven results._

One woman, ten men. Two of them were the ones already deceased. They were all high-ranking, except one boy who had been ten at the time, and his parents had turned to the organ trade to get him a new heart when the medical system failed him.

Haemoglobin AB.

Hide saved all the documents onto a removable USB. He’d been at work too long with no real explanation. He was meant to meet his new partner tomorrow, but all he could think of was these cases.

“Shit! I stayed too late!” Forcibly rushed, he gathered up his belongings and waved to Amon. “See you tomorrow in class, Amon!”

He ran off before he could be interrogated.

* * *

 

Late at night, surrounded by blankets with his laptop in front of him and a handful of ignored messages on his phone, Hide carefully read through the files.

They were all alive and well, it seemed. Because they were all wealthy they paid off any charges, except for the young boy whose parents were now both in jail and he lived with an adoptive family. He was doing well, it seemed.

Everything was going well until he read through the wealthy man who had died in January.

One of the first ones to be convicted, he received a lung transplant when in a car accident three years ago on the 23rd of December, where his ribcage caved in and both his lungs were punctured. He received a complete transplantation six hours later and recovered enough to smoke another year away.

Then he died.

When Hide saw cancer, he initially brushed it off. It seemed natural enough and not suspicious. As he read through the man’s medical record, however, it wasn’t so convincing.

No history of cancer in family. He had a very low chance of developing it that young, at least, in his mid-fifties. But he did.

_Metastatic Cancer of Unknown Origin._

As the file progressed into his death certificate, Hide wasn’t sure if he was awake or not:

_“ . . . Tumours present in brain, heart and pancreas. The lungs, although not rejected from the body, developed cancerous tissue quickly that is believed to have spread into the blood. It is unknown at this stage whether the rapid development of cancer is to blame or a deeper issue, but the patient was declared deceased in transit to the hospital after suffering total organ failure.”_

Numbly, Hide read on to see that later, it went on to say the family didn’t wish for an autopsy and he was buried quickly after.

Suddenly he felt very haunted, as if he’d just watched a horror film. Except instead of a monstrous serial killer jumping out to brutally murder him, it was the threat of realisation that chilled him.

If he was correct, then this man had received Kaneki’s lungs.

On a cellular level, was Kaneki’s biology different? Could it cause such a threatening cancer to develop in a normal human body that could kill it within six months?

Was Kaneki’s body toxic to the rest of the human race?

Hide almost didn't want to pick up his phone. How would he go and talk to Kaneki normally, thinking this? Kaneki probably didn’t even know it. He couldn’t tell him, Hide realised slowly. If Kaneki knew it, if Kaneki found yet another reason to hate himself—

No.

Kaneki would never know. Hide would not tell him.

He exited the document, about to shut down the laptop when he realised that the rest of these people were still living.

The boy was still living.

His transplant was nearly a year old. A heart. Was it more integral than a pair of lungs? Surely it was. He had to contact him. He had to help. He had to—

He had no idea what to do.

What should he do?

A hospital. Send him to a hospital.

He pawed around his room, looking for a pen and failing to find one. He ran into the lounge and still came up empty, and in a last-ditch attempt he ran into Nishio’s room and found on beside his bed.

“H . . . ide? The fuck?”

Hide didn’t even bother explaining, closing the door behind him and running back to his own room, where he quickly wrote down the boy’s name:

_Watanabe Takashi._

Fate was a cruel mistress, but this time he was sure.

This time, he’d save Takashi.

* * *

 

He hadn’t gone to class that day, instead spending it in his room finding addresses and writing letters. He had only one stop: Takashi.

He’d spent all night redrafting the letter and copying the post format to as fine a detail as he could so it looked legitimate. He had to make sure the kid made it to a hospital before it was too late. If the cancer took six months to develop, then any day now his entire body would be forced to shut down.

After finding his address, Hide had cleaned up as best he could and planned the route there. Half an hour on the train, and he reached a suburban area of low-rise apartments and houses connected to Tokyo’s metropolitan area by a large freeway cutting through the middle.

His house was the one backed against the tall wall to block the constant roar of traffic out. A tall cement fence greeted him, and Hide considered leaving the mail in their letterbox.

But he didn’t.

Instead he rang the buzzer, and when a woman’s voice answered he spoke up, saying, “I have a high-importance letter addressed to Watanabe Takashi here.”

“Takashi?” Suddenly her voice was flustered, and Hide’s hopes sunk. Had he already began displaying signs of illness? “I’ll come to the door now. Please come in.”

The gate clicked, and Hide pushed it forward, greeted with slightly overgrown grass and a faded child’s car propped against the concrete. It was neglected and dusted with age. Around the porch he saw a collection of dusty sandals and a scattering of toys. Clearly they hadn’t expected visitors.

As he reached the door, it was opened by a kindly-lookin,g middle-aged woman. Her glasses were askew and her hair was messy, probably air-dried after she fell asleep with it wet. Hide held out the letter and she took it quickly, not caring to ask him to leave before she scanned the sender (Hide had copied the name of the head doctor at the hospital Takashi had received the operation at) and ripping it open to read in front of him.

There were a few beats of silence that Hide held his breath for. He watched her eyes scan the pages quickly, one hand unconsciously coming to hold the arm of her glasses, a nervous habit apparently. When she was finished she turned quickly, ready to run into the house to get Takashi, he hoped, before she turned back to him awkwardly, failing to speak.

“I’ll be off,” he said with a smile. “Good luck.”

* * *

 

“Hey, Kimi?” Hide tried to wedge his phone between his shoulder and ear, but _shit,_ it was too thin nowadays. “Do you know anyone at Saitama General Hospital?”

 _“I know a few,”_ she said, distracted. _“Why?”_

“A boy should be coming in today,” he said. “Watanabe Takashi. Can you tell me how it goes?”

_“Do I get to know the context?”_

“ . . . No.” Hide didn’t have it in him to smile. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that the faded childish belongings at that house would remain untouched for a very long time. Watanabe Takashi, nearly 13, may not live much longer. “I can’t tell you.”

 _“You and Nishio,”_ Kimi sighed. _“I can, yes. I have a friend from uni there. I’ll call you tonight, okay? It’ll be fine.”_

Kimi was a good nurse.

She was very good at lying.

* * *

 

That night, she told him he’d checked in after a mysterious letter was sent to his guardian for examination.

Three days later, she called him and told him he’d died surrounded by his family after his body shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your patience! I really can't say it enough but you guys are so supportive and kind and honestly I can't wait to write you the happy domestic chapters you all deserve.


	53. Lanterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i know youse all love watching Hide suffer so...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends  
> at last i get my arse over here  
> I'm behind schedule so i'll be speeding up and posting again tomorrow
> 
> out of 10 how much should i proofread this and edit im going as fast as possible so do tell me because i am very lazy and generally just ... don't proofread. ye

_I’m fine I just gotta chill for a bit._

Nishio had forwarded him the message after Kaneki had shown up on his doorstep looking for Hide. Since he went to work last week in what Kaneki had hoped was a spring in his step, he hadn’t returned any calls or sent him any messages.

Absently wandering the streets, Kaneki couldn’t help but think that he’d done something wrong. What else was there to think? Maybe the end had come before he’d even expected it. God, maybe it was because he was so depressed all the time that Hide had grown sick of him.

It was fair.

He deserved it.

The temperature had dropped again, any warmth in the nights sapped away by the sting of winter trying to hold on. His breath clouded in front of him as he read the text again, leaning on the wall of a 24-hour fast food store. Where had Hide gone? No one seemed to know, and Tokyo was so vast and tangled he could disappear forever.

He probably wanted to.

Kaneki sighed, standing to walk across the world. High-rise apartments loomed above him, distant squares of warm light and the cracks seeping through drawn curtains enough to remind him of what he was missing. He felt unwanted to say the least.

He felt like he’d seen a world he wasn’t meant to.

If Uta had wanted him to come to the bar, he didn’t show it. There were no missed calls. Touka seemed to infer instantly where he’d gone, and he was grateful. Ayato, he knew, would be forced into watching the house.

All so he could look for Hide. Because he didn’t know what else to do.

The light turned green and he hurried across, feeling awkward in the omnipresent gaze of the city. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, trying to seem as small as possible. He’d forgotten a beanie, and regretted it instantly. It was showing, and he couldn’t even explain it in a way to pass it off as _normal._ His glasses had been dropped one too many times, and now they sat askew on his nose and he hadn’t thought to get them fixed. Annoying. Broken.

Useless.

A car rattled past, and he glanced out of habit to see who was driving: a nondescript salaryman on his way home from the office, probably. A normal life. Maybe he had a wife and kids at home to provide for. Maybe he’d sit down and share a dinner and chuckle over children’s antics.

Maybe he wouldn’t.

Kaneki stared as his feet as he followed the main road. Supermarkets were still open, and distantly he registered the metallic squealing of trollies moving up and down aisles, the rhythmic beeping of the register as workers mechanically scanned items for purchase. The light bled onto the concrete, and he jogged past nervously.

What was he going to accomplish? Really, what would he accomplish by doing this? Wasn’t he going to be a bother like this?

_“He looked kind of . . . off,”_ Nishio had said. _“I think that CCG work got to him.”_

He jogged until he reached the next light to cross onto the next block, feet tapping anxiously as he stared into the empty, bright interior of another fast food shop.

And he saw Hide.

The sound of the crossing lights disappeared, and instead he poured over the sight in front of him: Hide was wearing a heavy jacket, leaning onto the back of the booth seat so his head rested on the plastic top. His eyes were closed, familiar orange headphones over his head and a phone on the table in front of him. There was no food.

And he looked shit.

His legs carried him across the road, and he hovered by the door. What would he do? What if Hide wanted to be alone? Kaneki wanted to be alone all the _time,_ and—

He had, until he met Hide.

_Shit._ If he was upset, he tried to reason, Hide would probably try and make him feel better, regardless of whether he wanted company or not. Would Hide appreciate it the same way? What were the boundaries between them?

_“When they need cheering up,”_ Touka had said one time as she applied her makeup, _“then generally you just need to do what you associate with being cheered up.”_

At the time, she’d been talking about Yoriko. He doubted she’d ever think he’d apply it to something like this, but here he was.

He’d never paid attention to the actions of others, and he wished he had. He had been so _stupid_ in the past, he—

Coffee. When he’d sit at the coffee table in the early mornings, silent and lost in his own thoughts, Touka had poured him a cup and offered silent company. Had he found it comforting? He’d never tried to single out the feeling, but now he realised it had been. It had been calming. It had cleared his head, and he had watched her leave for school better than before.

Coffee.

He pushed the door open, checking to see that Hide didn’t startle. As he approached the counter a worker came from deeper in the innards of the burger-making stations and greeted him politely.

“Can I get two coffees, please, for take-away?” Kaneki counted the money he had in his pockets. Eto delivered the money to Touka, but he wasn’t keen on spending it. “Also two serves of chips,” he added as an afterthought, realising that food was also comforting in the same way.

“1000 yen, please.”

He waited anxiously, neck tinging in apprehension. The coffees would be terrible, he knew, and the chips would just be cardboard in his mouth, but it had just been the thought and the warmth in his hands that was comforting at the time.

He hoped Hide was the same.

He could do this. Even if it wasn’t right, even if . . . he could leave. He could get the message and bugger off and it would be fine. Absolutely fine. He could deal with the rejection.

His meal was served quickly, being the only person there at the hour, and he steeled himself to walk over.

As soon as he started walking towards him, his hands started shaking so violently he nearly spilled the coffee in his hands. Doubts threatened to push him out the door and call someone else to come and get him. Someone Hide would value infinitely more than him. Someone who had much more tact when it came to this. Nishio, or Touka—hell, even Ayato would do better.

Hide was there for him all the time, yet it terrified him that he had to try and be just as much back.

Because he wasn’t enough.

The liquid burned his hand as it spilled, stinging enough to jolt his mind back. Hide was still sitting, motionless and zoned out. He could be asleep. He could already know Kaneki was there and was ignoring him for a multitude of reasons that seemed less and less inviting.

He felt like he was dragging cement prosthetic legs along the ground with each step, his stomach sinking and more coffee spilling onto his hands as he got closer, the harsh oil smell of the chips in his hand making him ready to gag. He could run. It was okay. He tried to console himself that at least Hide would probably be polite to his face, but he wasn’t sure if he could take the disappointment in his eyes that he _knew_ would be there.

Maybe he should just leave the food and run.

Oh, God. Could he do this? Could he _really_ do this? If Touka were here she’d probably be screaming in frustration. All he had to offer was some cheap food. Could he survive that? Could he be of _worth_ to Hide when he needed it, like now? _Did_ he need it? He just . . . he wanted to make sure Hide was okay. He wanted to, and . . . and he felt like it was wrong.

Touka wouldn’t hesitate, he knew.

Slowly, he placed the tray of coffees on the table and tried to quieten the rustling paper bag as he left the chips. His hands were shaking, and he felt like he could throw up—as if his very stomach was trembling like his hands. God, he wanted to run. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do _this._ He’d just be making things worse for Hide, and— and he’d just be a burden and—

He was scared to leave, too.

Maybe that was what forced him into the opposite side of the booth, anxiously pulling out his phone so he had something to quell his nerves. He thought about texting Touka, but instead went to Nishio.

_(02:13) To: Nishio_

_> found him_

He fiddled with his phone for a bit, but he couldn’t distract himself properly and instead focused on nursing one of the bad coffees as he waited, too nervous to wake Hide up.

From the kitchen came a loud _BANG!,_ making him jump. Kaneki assumed it was a tray falling, as he saw workers rush down the aisles, trying to clean up a mess. Whatever nerves he had calmed roared back to life, and he swallowed back nauseousness. Hide shifted, finally awoken, and sighed loudly, rubbing at his eyes.

He sat forward, blinking and looking down at the table as he pulled the familiar orange headphones of his head in frustration Kaneki had never seen from him before. Frozen solid, he watched as Hide leant forward on the table, holding his face in his hands and sighing again.

He shouldn’t be here. The feeling spread through every blood vessel like a poison, atrophying him to the spot. Hide had been alone for a reason, and he had invaded the privacy. God, he felt like a traitor. He felt like a traitor for caring so deeply about what Hide wanted no one else to see. He felt like a traitor because he couldn’t force his stupid mouth to form a word of comfort.

He felt like an unwanted ghost.

Hide gave another sigh, rubbing his eyes again and looking across the table, where his eyes fell on the coffee and bag off chips and then further to Kaneki, eyes wide and stunned.

For a second, neither of them spoke. He couldn’t figure out what Hide was thinking at all, but God, Kaneki wished he had something better to offer than his _being there._ Mouths parted and failed to speak until eventually pulled his face into a shaky smile. “I—‘’

Unsure of what to do, Kaneki removed the other coffee from the tray and held it out to him, returning the nervous curl of lips. “Here.”

Numbly, Hide took it, staring at it like it was a religious artefact before putting it down and grabbing Kaneki’s hands, holding them tightly. He looked pale, his face twisted in pain Kaneki knew too well: anguish.

“Busted, huh?” Hide chuckled to himself, smiling ruefully at the table. He brought Kaneki’s hands to his brow and breathed out slowly, his laughter painfully similar to distant sobbing. “Damn.”

Kaneki’s throat was too tight to form words. He focused on the warmth of Hide’s skin against his knuckles, the music he could still hear from the earphones. It was painfully loud, enough to drone out any stray thoughts from the sheer volume. Hide sighed that horrible, frustrated sigh again, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to be here,” he whispered, looking up at him slowly. Kaneki had never seen anyone look more vulnerable. “Can we run away?”

Kaneki’s breathing hitched, and he forced out the words. “No,” he said, unsure if he was grimacing or smiling. “We can’t run, Hide.”

The other nodded in understanding, looking down again and leaning into Kaneki’s hands. “I just don’t want to be here, Kaneki. Not now.”

Neither of them had any energy. Kaneki knew how deadly that spiral was. Normally, he relied on Hide to jump in and force him out of it, but this time . . .

He was afraid to ask why. If something could get Hide this bad . . . for Kaneki, disappearing at weeks for a time was normal. Not Hide. Hide had done nothing to deserve feeling like this, yet he _did._ Kaneki hated seeing him like this, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know how Hide was so _good_ or the time, and he didn’t know what people were even meant to do.

But he knew what he’d do.

“Let’s go.” Kaneki stood quickly, pulling his hands free and shuffling out of the booth. “Now. Take your coffee.”

“What?” He pulled Hide by the arm until he was standing. He grabbed the bag of chips and pressed the coffee into Hide’s limp hand, grabbing his own as well and pulling them out the door.

The more they lingered, the deeper they would sink. If Kaneki’s experiences had been for anything, it was to know how to stop Hide from getting worse, even if he couldn’t make it better.

When he’d been younger, he’d searched out that playground like a lifeline. In the days of Before, when he was young and hopeful and foolish, he had gone there too often. He had bought himself food with the money Asaoka gave him to buy food while working and stared at the nighttime glow of the city, each light replacing the stars he couldn’t see. He’d brought Hide there during the day doing this same thing.

He dragged them onto the first bus that came their way, knowing anything down this area of town headed towards the universities. Hide was uncharacteristically silent, sipping at his coffee like a chore. It steamed in the cold air, turning his face pink from the steam.

This time of night there was little to no traffic, and the bus was nearing Kamii in a few minutes. Kaneki looped his arm through Hide’s, tapping his foot as he waited. The silence was uncomfortable, a void usually filled with aimless chatter. Kaneki tried to silence his worries. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe he’d not help at all. Maybe it would make Hide worse.

He knew the area they were in well. There was another stop before the closest one, but the silence was starting to feel stagnant and poisonous. He stole a glance at Hide, who was staring away intently, deep in thought.

Just not the positive kind.

“Want to run?” Startled by his voice, Hide turned to him, not quite understanding. Kaneki felt the bus slow beneath his feet, trying to qualm the stinging uneasiness in his face by smiling.

Today was a day of surprises for the both of them, it seemed.

The bus ground to a halt and the instant the doors flew open, he dragged Hide out by the wrist, sprinting down the streets, jumping over trashcans and kicking others aside like the average delinquent until finally he heard genuine laughter, and the two of them hollered all the way to the park.

* * *

 

_“Hello, I’d like permission to speak to the psychologist and gain permission for something.”_

_Hide hated how dead he sounded._

_The process to get here had been long, after going through supervisor after supervisor, eating up his free time in exchange for this_ chance.

_“And what’s that?” Hide could never, for the life of him, remember the man’s name. It was something along the lines of Mr Gono, but he’d never really tried to focus in on him. Hide remembered the details of his bland, round face incredibly well, however, and the sheer disinterest he’d seen from the man whenever he ran into him._

_“My friends’ funerals are tomorrow.” He’d said the same thing so many times it felt like he was reciting it rather than thinking it. “I’d like to go.”_

_Gono regarded him for a moment, rolling a cigarette._

_“Denied.”_

_“You can’t. I have every right—”_

_“Rules are rules, Nagachika.” He was beyond apathetic. “Even the dorm psychologist would agree. Beyond this dorm, until you pass, is absolutely nothing. Not even the burial of dead friends.”_

* * *

 

The two of them stumbled to a stop at the park, breathing heavily. The food was a cold weight in his hand by now, his coffee discarded somewhere along the way, but he didn’t care about the waste of money for a change. Hide looked lighter, and Kaneki finally started to relax.

“Ah, I’m lying down.” Without a care to the woodchips beneath them, Hide lay down like a starfish, puffing out the last of the adrenaline the run had started up. “Making me run like that. I’m an old man, don’t you know?”

Kaneki sighed, sitting down next to him. “Chips?”

He’d never seen someone sit up faster in his life. “I’m always a slut for fast food, Kaneki. Damn.”

The bag was still slightly warm on the inside, and he handed Hide one of the thoroughly-jostled cups of chips.

“The whale is better to sit on,” he said, standing. “Come on!”

“So energetic,” Hide sighed, letting Kaneki pull him up by the arm. “I’m coming.”

Climbing onto the whale had felt solitary before. He’d been there so many times he no longer remembered how exactly to feel on it. But with Hide beside him, he didn’t exactly recall the despair that had driven him to it before.

In front of him, he could see Tokyo skyscrapers reaching into the heavens, dotted with square lights of people still awake, and from this distance he could even see the blue-lit windows of people who had fallen asleep with the television on. It was a sight he was familiar with, but it had never looked more different.

“You always come here,” Hide noted between chips. “And bring me along when you think I’m down.”

“I don’t think; I _know_.” Kaneki stared at the chips for a second, psyching himself up to chew what felt like cardboard in his mouth. “Sometimes, at least.”

Hide hummed, letting a silence stretch between them that was infinitely more comfortable than the last. Slowly, Kaneki steeled himself and started eating the fries. They were the definition of grainy, soggy cardboard in his mouth, but still better than most foods.

“Are we having another heart to heart?” Hide had been watching him, amused as he ate. “Because, well, it’ll be—”

“That building,” Kaneki cut him off, pointing towards the apartment blocks he could see rising out of the horizon on the far side of the city, where things became increasingly more industrial and poorer. He remembered its off-white colour and brickwork exactly. “I used to live in one of those with my mother. I haven’t told you that before, have I?”

Kaneki wasn’t sure what he was doing. Maybe he was hoping to spur it out of Hide by revealing things about himself. Maybe it would make him more comfortable. He glanced across to Hide, who he could tell was listening, following where he was pointing, even if he couldn’t see the building from his side of the whale.

“No,” Hide said slowly, “but, Kaneki, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” There were an ocean of things Kaneki could never bring himself to so much as whisper, but he could tell Hide this. “And I’m going to. Is that okay with you?”

“You don’t need to ask my permission for anything, Kaneki.” Hide smiled, and Kaneki hated himself for being the one comforted when he was meant to be doing that. Instead he turned back to the building, ready to talk about something, for once.

“My mother always worked, and it got kind of lonely, so I’d come here. I was too shy to talk to anyone, so I came once they were leaving, but . . . I don’t know. It became a good place. Then I moved to live with my aunt and I liked to come here at night, because she wasn’t . . .” Wasn’t what? Welcoming? Loving? Accepting? “It wasn’t very happy.”

“Why here?” Hide was listening intently, and Kaneki felt the embarrassment rising in his face. His story wasn’t worth listening to like _that._ He’d just wanted to break the ice.

He shrugged sheepishly, looking out at the view again. “I guess it was because . . . I’m not sure. If you climbed to the top of my apartment block, you could see the park from there. Maybe that’s why.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me. I didn’t realise.”

“It’s just a park, Hide.” He chewed on another chip to try and seem more casual about it. “Where have you been for three days?”

Hide winced, scratching his cheek. “Uh . . . walking around the city?”

Kaneki tried his best to swallow the panic that came with Hide hiding things from him. He knew it was irrational _and_ possessive. He knew it. But it didn’t stop.

“What kind of ‘walking’?”

When Kaneki walked around for a week at a time, it was certainly not for sightseeing.

“I sort of drifted between fast food shops and zoned out,” Hide admitted. “I . . .” he chewed on his lip, but Kaneki didn’t have the willpower to mutter a single word.

“You know when you fail a test,” Hide started quickly, spinning on the whale to face Kaneki. “Like, you fail, but you think ‘oh, it’s just because I didn’t study at all. I get this.’ You know that?” Hesitantly, Kaneki nodded as he went on, gesticulating wildly to try and get his point across. “Yeah, that. But then, when you sit, like, the exam and you think you’ll be fine because you studied and you were _sure_ you understood the questions, but then you fail? You know that feeling?”

Kaneki didn’t. But he nodded.

“That feeling,” Hide said, leaning forward. “But, it’s . . .” his sentence died off, and he leaned into his hands in frustration. Kaneki drew his legs up and twisted to face him, leaning forward and tentatively placing a hand on his head, carding through his hair slowly.

“It’s the same feeling,” Hide said through his hands, “but a thousand times worse. And you realise that you just _can’t_ do enough, because your grade won’t change.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaneki murmured. “I don’t understand, Hide.”

“It’s okay.” He heard Hide exhale through his fingers, then he covered his ears slowly, still facing down.

Kaneki froze solid.

Oh, God. He knew that habit. He remembered doing the same thing, when—

When they’d died.

Hide was talking about a _person._

He’d tried to save a person, and he’d failed again.

Kaneki wished he could lean forward and hug him with the same ease Hide hugged him, but he couldn’t. He felt awkward and distant, painfully aware of how separate the problem was and he couldn’t breach it. It felt wrong of him.

The idea came so suddenly he didn’t have time to process it.

“Hide.” He slid off the whale, shaking Hide’s leg. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” in the space of a moment, Hide had composed himself remarkably. Kaneki checked his phone quickly, reading the time: 3:16AM.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

 

_He could still hear the screaming. Six other people, screaming and crying just like him, but it was the pungent silence afterwards that had imprinted on his eardrums, making his ears ring. It was the sound of distant, failing breathing and the dying of bodies. It was despair. No matter how hard he pressed his hands to his ears, the sound did not fade._

_“Shh.” Warm hands took his wrists, prying his hands away. He recognised Itori’s presence more than her words, too afraid to open his eyes and look at her. He couldn’t. He’d been in the same room—people had—God, everyone was dead except for him. Why wasn’t he dead, too?_

_She covered his ears with her hands gently, warm against his skin and gentle. He heard the distant sound of lava through her veins, alive and grounding. Slowly he plucked up the courage to look her in the eye, and she smiled back._

_“We’re still here,” she reminded him, her voice distant behind the sound of the blood still surging healthily through her veins. “It’s okay.”_

_When she was there, he could believe everything_ was _okay._

_Until it wasn’t._

_\--_

“Hi, ma’am.” Kaneki waved the train card out in front of her. “This is my friend’s card. We’re not sure why it isn’t working, we could get into the station just fine.” For emphasis, he pressed it to all of the gates, all of them turning up a red light.

“Could you help us?”

It was the morning shift. She was probably about to go home, and two boys who just wanted to get home probably didn’t bother her. Her sense of responsibility of waning, and she pressed her master key to the closest booth to let them both out. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Kaneki flashed her his fakest smile before tugging Hide along by the arm. Getting around the city for free was a terrible skill, but effective. The station hadn’t changed in the years since he had been there, and he navigated the escalators with ease. The bus would leave in a few for their destination.

After the first few hurried train changes, Hide had stopped asking where they were going. It seemed he’d figured it out already, which Kaneki was grateful for. He wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to say the words.

They had to run to catch the bus on time, but they made it, breathless. Kaneki wasn’t sure how bad it would be, but it was the only thing he could think of. It was his last resort.

He hoped it would work.

* * *

 

_“Remember that friend of yours?” Itori was taking a smoker’s break with him, outside the bar. Kaneki had been trying to kill the habit, but as soon as he stepped into the bar he felt_ weaker _without it. It was part of the character he had made for himself. Maybe Sasaki Haise wasn’t a smoker, but the working Kaneki Ken certainly was._

_“Which one?”_

_“Blondie.” Itori was certainly elegant as she released a plume of smoke, holding the cigarette like an artist between her index and middle finger. “Your only friend, Kaneki.”_

_“What about him?”_

_“Well, those friends of his that died? Their funeral was today.” Itori blew out another cloud of smoke, turning to look at him expectantly. “I didn’t see him there.”_

_“I wonder why.” He hadn’t heard from Hide in over a week, but he wasn’t going to let Itori know that. Since he’d arrived to find an empty hospital room, he’d decided he was fine with waiting for Hide to come back, but it was harder every day to try and ignore the emptiness Kamii had without him._

_“Yeah, you wonder all right.” She tapped the ash off the tip of the stick, musing into the empty street. “Both their families were rich. It was a big affair.”_

_“You went, huh?”_

_“Of course I went,” she huffed. “Gotta be in the know-who, Kaneki, not the know-how. Their plots are_ huge, _Kaneki. Family plots. Apparently the country family came up for the boy as well. I wonder why he wasn’t buried back home.”_

_“You wonder?”_

_“I assume it’s because the uncle felt guilty about it and had it buried with the main family.” She took another drag for a second, before releasing the cigarette and turning back to him. “Or don’t you believe me?”_

_“I never believe you.” Kaneki stubbed out the cigarette under his boot. The smoke left a slimy feeling in his throat that he had started to dislike. “Why are you telling me this?”_

_“I want you to do another job for me.”_

_Kaneki smirked, watching a pale wisp of smoke come from his nose as he did. Of course she wanted him to do another job for her. Of course._

_“As long as I get paid.”_

_\--_

It was nearly 5AM by the time they reached the cemetery, the sky already stained with the morning colours like a fading bruise. The gate was locked, but easy enough to climb. Kaneki felt too hurried. Once Hide had safely climbed the gate, he grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him along. He wasn’t sure where to go, knowing that his feet would lead him on the only path they had travelled, but he kept running. They had such limited time, and he had to look across the entire place for two graves.

Himuya Satsuki and Takigawa Takashi.

He had to find it. He had to find it. He had to—

They were next to each other.

He ground to a halt so suddenly Hide nearly crashed into him. The two gravestones were shiny and new, tall, with the characters neatly etched into them and coloured in gold. Of all the places, they had to be so near to _that_ grave, and they were right next to each other.

Hide was already staring at them.

“Shit,” he swore, turning away from him. His voice was thick with tears and Kaneki felt guilt forming in his gut like a stone. Maybe this had been the wrong idea. Maybe he’d been foolish.

It was the second time he’d ever seen Hide cry.

It was the second time he’d seen Hide cry next to the bodies of his friends.

“I’m sorry,” Kaneki murmured. “I thought you’d want to—”

Hide crushed him in a hug instantly, his head burrowed into his shoulder. His cheeks were wet against the skin of Kaneki’s neck, and he gripped at Kaneki like he was drowning.

He had nothing to say, so he didn’t speak. He held Hide as tight as he dared, clawing at the fabric of his coat to hold him impossibly tighter. Mourning was done in silence, he knew, but he had expected screaming and sobbing. He hadn’t expected Hide to be this quiet.

He guessed they were both long past the point of screaming.

It couldn’t achieve anything.

It wouldn’t achieve anything.

But, fuck, it should have.

Even though it wasn’t at all a happy moment, staring at the sun rise over Hide’s shoulder as he rubbed circles on his back was probably his most precious yet.

 

He didn’t even stop to look at the grave of his mother on the way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVELY COMMENTS AND SUPPORT AND LOVE AND YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL ANGELS FOR PUTTING UP WITH THE CRAZY TONE THAT'S BEEN HAPPENING IN THIS STORY THANK YOU ALL SO SO MUCH I WILL COME BACK TOMORROW FOR MORE SINCE WE CLEARED UP THIS BOUT OF WRITER'S BLOCK


	54. [He] Passed Away Alone at Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE PLOT THICKENS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys im so sorry i said id update tomorrow and life is so hectic i didnt have time to write but here have a messy as chapter full of important plot points that i will most definitely fix up because it's too important not to
> 
> also bless baby mutsuki's soul

The spring warmth had dyed the streets pink in the constant showering of sakura petals, piling up in gutters and lacing themselves in a murky pink-brown mess in the radiators and windscreen wipers of cars. Weeks of rainy, balmy warmth had come and gone and left them firmly stuck around the labyrinth of the city until summer would come and melt them all away.  


Mado Akira was not in the mood for springtime.

Amon had started giving her Saturdays off, but she knew he was beginning to realise nothing changed. After the operation, the crime activity in the 20th ward had grown stagnant, and no investigations had come their way for weeks. It left her with the bitter taste in her mouth, forced to face Takizawa’s case over and over again, never finding anything.

She knew that the others were working on the same thing, but she felt isolated by it all. Suzuya and Shinohara were essentially working with other squads all over the city, but she, Amon and Hide were all stuck in the one office. Hide was only there during his shift as school continued, but he’d been cooped up in his own investigation of the leads he’d gotten from the bar. Amon had been designated a case by one of the higher-ups that _clearly_ wasn’t suiting him, but he was too stubborn to ask and she was too proud to offer to help him.

If Tokyo was once a river, then it had turned into a swamp for her.

 _Find V._ That had been an instruction. A simple one, no less. She’d filed numerous requests to form group for field work, one that everyone would benefit from, however those requests had never been returned.

That had been the first indication that something was wrong.

Angrily, she shuffled the papers back into a folder and dropped them to the ground, pulling her laptop closer and scrolling through the compiled notes she’d amassed. Maris Stellar made a hissing noise of distaste from where she’d curled up on Akira’s pillow, but that was the least of her problems.

If her father had taught her anything, it was that the foundations of someone’s beliefs made them up. He’d had total solidarity in the cause of the CCG before he’d been killed by Rabbit. It had made him strong. It had also made him mad.

Her mother had died for the CCG as well, years ago. She was barely a fuzzy shape of warmth in the back of Akira’s mind at this stage.

Yet why was she growing uncomfortable with that idea? While she despised the idea of dying solely for an intangible ‘cause’, she didn’t deny the nobility. Dying for the sake of someone else wasn’t distasteful.

But dying for the CCG seemed . . .

Like a waste? Like a trap? Like a lie?

She hadn’t added a single word to anything in over three hours, locked in her thoughts. Seidou was out there somewhere, waiting for someone to help him, but she couldn’t even take the closest step. After pouring through the CCTV footage, she had found absolutely nothing of value. She had sat in front of the monitor all night with eight different streams playing. She had watched people die and hours later watch the CCG come and collect their bodies in bags. There hadn’t been a single blip of Seidou after they had separated. He’d disappeared like a ghost.

What Akira wished, however, was that she could have a copy of the video footage from the camera on the bottom of the CCG chopper. It would show her the entire scene playing out. Even if Seidou wasn’t in it, in an area that large, _something_ had to be amiss. Something had to give them away.

But her requests for access to it had come up empty.

She’d been feeling like the CCG was hiding all the answers from her. Her intuition was never wrong, and she felt like she was being scammed. The feeling had been growing until it felt like a constant uneasiness in her gut.

Takizawa Seidou and a handful of others had disappeared that night without a trace, and no one would tell her why.

_Find V._

But how?

She sighed, finally deciding to fix up the messy bun her hair had slipped out of during the day. If Akira was going to find out about an organisation, what would she do? Check their history? Done. Ask other investigators? Done. Toil through every snippet of footage they had of them? Done. What else was there to do?

_Hide._

The bar operation. Hide was on the bar operation! If she couldn’t find the answers through conventional means, then maybe she could ask Hide to ask in the bar.

Would that even help her, though? She stared back into her computer screen and the empty abyss of white pixels in front of her. It had been weeks already. Takizawa could be dead by now.

But the idea of him disappearing forever was far worse.

* * *

“Mutsuki Tooru?”

“What?”

“You are, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

“ _You_ ”—Hide waved wildly in their general direction—“are Mutsuki Tooru?”

“ _Oh_.”

For a second, Hide took them in: from his profile, he had expected someone of the slim stature that indeed had been true, but there was something in their living, breathing face that was certainly . . . different.

It wasn’t that their presence was weak, or that they were ‘meek’ at all. Rather, it was . . . Hide was at a loss to describe it exactly. He felt terribly _unguarded_ around them. That was the only way to say it. Maybe it was the earnest innocence in the kid’s eyes or their easily-flustered nature, but something about them was very disarming. If they asked Hide if he knew Kaneki Ken, he knew the truth would come out before he had time to lie properly.

Yet there was nothing threatening about them at all.

Dark complexion, chin-length, dark hair, and a large eye staring back at him, an eyepatch covering the other. On first appearance, Hide was tempted to call them a girl, but he wasn’t sure. Suzuya’s appearance was disorientating and youthful, but he was obviously a man. Mutsuki was . . . well, Hide wasn’t one to decide what they were, was he? He felt even worse about trying to because on the file he had been given about him, he noticed that the ‘gender’ specification was deliberately missing.

“Y-Yes, I’m Mutsuki Tooru.”

Maybe it was because he had spent so long around Kaneki, but Hide knew every stop sign Mutsuki was waving at him: Do Not Touch. Until recently, the sheer size of Hide’s character would discard that and shake a shoulder anyway, but now he found himself able to respect boundaries far more.

He wasn’t sure whether that was good or not.

“Nice!” Hide nodded enthusiastically to himself. “I’m—”

“Investigator Nagachika Hideyoshi, please sit down.”

So caught up in the _child_ in front of him, Hide hadn’t even noticed Yoshitoki come to the door. His blood turned to ice and forced him to stand straight, the smile falling from his face in an instant.

Mutsuki was completely at Yoshitoki’s whims, Hide knew. Despite the foolish, protectiveness he had for the younger one, Hide couldn’t help the mean streak when it came to anything with a whiff of Washuu. He watched, still standing, as Yoshitoki walked around the desk and sat down on the opposite side. The room, even though it was a different one to the last time they had spoken, was nearly identical. All the conference rooms in HQ were.

It drove Hide only slightly mad.

“Please,” Yoshitoki said with the cold smirk that made Hide shift uncomfortably, “take a seat.”

“My apologies.” The sound of his own voice made him sick. Gone was the bubbly warmth he associated with himself. He sounded like a fucking drone and that sick, but what was even worse was the part of him that was rapidly growing to accept it.

He could feel Mutsuki’s eyes on him as he lowered his pathetic ass into the seat. Yoshitoki was also watching him, but Hide wasn’t afraid to hold the eye contact.

Satisfied at last, Yoshitoki reclined in his chair, crossing his hands over his stomach—a signal he was about to go on a spiel of his. Hide braced himself for the onslaught of bullshit.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Nagachika.” Yoshitoki clearly enjoyed this. “You seemed so _happy_ before I came. It’s almost like you don’t like me.”

“I’m sorry I gave you that impression.”

The response pleased Yoshitoki enough for him to drop the topic, instead reaching up to flick through the documents he had brought. “The reports you two supplied were most useful. As I’m sure you’ve been filled in, Nagachika, Mutsuki participated in a similar mission during the night of the Docklands Raid. He was able to talk with members very effectively.”

 _He._ A subtle glance to the side told him that Mutsuki was comfortable with that particular pronoun. Okay. Hide went with that.

“I see. It was a good opportunity.”

“You’re going to teach him how to barter with a broker.”

For a second, the words washed over him like a wave, and Hide didn’t trust himself to breathe in for fear he would suffocate. _Teach him how to deal with brokers._ It wasn’t even a hard ask. From anyone else to anyone else, it was a standard order.

But he knew. Coming from Yoshitoki’s mouth, it was all a plan to ruin him. Either to die or to become an Officer, he didn’t know. But the thought made Hide sick to the stomach, and he painfully remembered how warm his small bed in the dorm had been that morning with Kaneki still there.

“Of course,” he said instead. “I will do my best.”

* * *

“Oh, Nagachika.” Just as they were dismissed, Yoshitoki called him back. “Take a seat for a few more minutes, would you?”

His patience was wearing thin, and Hide wasn’t sure how long he could keep the robotic calmness he had going. Anything could send him spiralling over the edge, and he really wasn’t sure how it would come out.

All he knew was that it would mean the Washuu had won against him.

So he sat down and waited for Yoshitoki to speak. The silence stretched for minutes, Yoshitoki checking his watch between a silent glare.

“Become an Officer, Hideyoshi.”

“I decline.”

The older man grinned at the quick reply, teeth flashing in a smile that could have been welcoming if it wasn’t so _dreadful._ “I thought as much.”

Out of the stack of documents Yoshitoku had brought, he produced a single leaflet of paper and handed it to him. “Read this.”

Hide wanted to throw up.

The document was short and abbreviated, but he got the gist of it easily enough. A will. His mother had given the Washuu a photocopy of a will that declared her the current head _and_ owner of the CCG. A will that said, in her absence, it was Hide’s.

“I will pose a different question, then.” Yoshitoki leaned forward on the desk, voice dropping. “Become a Washuu.”

Hide smiled thinly, eerily reminiscent of the one Yoshitoki always wore. “You want me to train Mutsuki so you can take me off the case. He’s a good pick. He’s also a Quinx, which works very well for you and the family’s . . . predicament.” The word felt like thick poison on his tongue, but Hide didn’t stop.

“Do you want me to become an Officer so that you can control me, or so that I lose the ability to tell others the truth?”

“There is no truth, Hideyoshi.”

Only his parents could call him by his full name.

“There is.” Hide slid the paper back onto the desk. “But perhaps I should call it a secret.”

“And what secret is that?”

In a sick twist of fate, that second let Hide realise how terrifyingly easy it was to give that cold smile right back to its owner. It was the same sort of feeling as when he had cornered Asaoka: power. Power as thick and deadly as poison on the back of his tongue as he spoke, and he knew it was a born and bred Washuu trait.

“Yours.”

* * *

“I’ll make this short.” Akira had no papers with her today—all of them had been discarded at her apartment, knowing that she would find no more answers than she already had from them. “I need your help, Hide.”

 _“Mine_?” Hide looked confused, pointing to himself as if he were the wrong answer. “Akira, are you—”

“I can’t ask Amon. I can’t as Shinohara, and I certainly can’t ask Suzuya. You’re the one doing undercover missions. I need you to . . . I need you to get intel on V. I need anything that will point me in the direction of Seidou, Hide. We can’t let him disappear.”

Her words made him pause for a second, glancing up and down the office to make sure it was empty.

“Akira, let’s get coffee,” he said, standing quickly and gesturing for her to follow. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten _all_ day, you know?”

Akira knew Hide well enough to pick up on his actions. He was deliberately leading her out of the office. Why? Was he avoiding the conversation or—

Or was the office not safe?

Once they were out on the street, the careless chatter discarded, Hide lowered his voice.

“Don’t talk about things like that in there,” Hide warned her. His tone was heavy and serious, completely alien to her image of him. “About V. Or Seidou.”

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous.” They walked into the closest coffee shop, and Hide recovered his usual energy to order them both cappuccinos, before settling in a seat towards the back. It was public, but Hide seemed comfortable with that.

“Hide, don’t leave me in the dark like this.”

“Akira, have you ever looked into the reports of Investigators who go missing without a trace?”

Even the words made her want to throw up. Slowly, she pressed her lips together and shook her head. Accepting this, Hide continued quietly.

“Seidou’s case isn’t related to that exactly. What you need to know is that the CCG have a lot to hide, and they will ‘dispose’ of people for it.”

“Did they take Seidou?”

“I don’t think so.” Hide sat back as the coffees were delivered, smiling and thanking the waitress happily. Akira glanced over her shoulder, waiting for the younger girl to be a safe distance away before she turned back to Hide, who was rubbing at his temple in thought.

“Then who did?”

“That night, the Owl told us to find V.” The spoon in the saucer rattled as Hide pulled the drink closer to him, far louder and sharper than his voice. “She was setting us up. She knows that if anyone finds V, then the city will go into meltdown. She _knows_ that. She was manipulating us, Akira. I think her group—Aogiri—they were stealing bodies that night. They were stealing people.”

“There’s no evidence of that.”

“It’s a hunch.” Hide sipped at the drink for a moment, rolling his lips carefully before he put it back down. Akira didn’t have the nerve to touch hers. If every dark, impossible suspicion was going to be proven, then she didn’t think her stomach would hold it.

Because for whatever reason, she couldn’t see a single lie or uncertainty in Hide’s face.

“Why?”

“Think about it.” Hide held up one palm, pointing at it with his other hand quickly as he spoke. “You’re a large, powerful gang organisation. You want to be in control of the city, but there’s an unspoken rule that a shadowy organisation has its entire claw around the city, and nothing you do will change that. What if _you_ knew the only way to derail that organisation, but your word meant nothing, so you had to turn to the only other great power in the city to do so.”

“The CCG,” Akira finished. Hide nodded quickly, lifting his other palm for her to see, full of empty air but somehow holding the weight of their world in it.

“The CCG is in control of the city, and no one doubts that. Its word is law. The government listens to it. It has a hold on every single country in the world, and a single family runs it. Who are they?”

“The Washuu.”

“Correct.” Hide gave another glance past her shoulder, putting his hands back on the table slowly. Still looking away, he continued. “One family. A huge, huge family that has branches across the world. So, we have two organisations that control the world, essentially: the CCG and the Washuu. What’s the problem here, Akira?”

“If they control the world, why does V control the city?”

“Exactly.” Hide’s gaze was piercing, eyes wide and intent on her face. “ _Why_ can V do that, when the CCG is global? It has the entire world at its fingertips. If they wanted V gone, if they wanted Aogiri gone, if they wanted to fucking ‘cleanse’ Japan of gangs, they could. So why don’t they?”

“Hide, this isn’t good.”

“Yeah,” he agreed solemnly. “It isn’t.”

“V makes a profit off the gang world,” Akira started, almost afraid to say the words aloud. “It’s well-known. It hides the evidence it needs to. Why did it come out into the public eye during the raid, though?”

“They were threatened,” Hide said. “By the Owl. I said before, didn’t I? She knew it all.”

“By all, Hide, do you mean . . .”

“It’s almost like the world is controlled by one group, isn’t it?” Hide sipped at his coffee again. “V and the CCG have no previous fights, do they? You saw how little evidence there was.”

_It’s like they work together._

“V is likely a global organisation as well,” Hide went on. “If we add that to our list of superpowers, what do we have?”

“The CCG, the Washuu, and V.”

“For the sake of it, combine the CCG into the Washuu family.”

“So the Washuus and V?”

“That’s exactly it.” Hide breathed out slowly, as if gathering the courage. “Would it be too far of a stretch to say that maybe they weren’t different organisations at all?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIDE YOU SO SMART YOU LOL AHAHAHAHA
> 
> im going to be busy for the next few days, but I'll see how much i can write. This officially starts the climb into the FINAL ARC OH MY GOD except it's gonna be a mammoth of one so yknow
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR STILL READING THIS I LOVE YOU ALL BLESS HAVE A GOOD DAY GOOD NIGHT GOOD CHRISTMAS GOOD CHEER YOU ALL DESERVE IT SO MUCH AAAAAAH stay safe and well!


	55. It's Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hayyyy its a new chapter  
> pls love mutsuki he is a lost child and torso wont fucking touch him in this fic. fuck saeki.

The idea that V might also be the Washuu had been in his mind for a while. The first thing that tipped him off was the aberrant behaviour of them actually participating actively at the raid. They had tried to fight and crush Aogiri. They had killed CCG members. They had tried to kidnap Kaneki.

He hadn’t made any connections until he started wondering about how the Washuu _actually_ made money. Obviously, the CCG had huge government funding, but they couldn’t survive just on that if they put it all to making the organisation stronger. He had assumed that they came from old riches, maybe.

That was not the case.

The Washuu were the definition of ‘pure-bred’. Once Hide started digging, he realised that maybe they were the definition of ‘in-bred’ instead.

In the hospital, Yoshitoki had said that Hide wasn’t a _carrier._ A carrier of what? A virus? A genetic trait?

A disease.

He wasn’t sure what exactly, but he knew it was crippling. He began to realise that nearly all the Washuus were Special Class Investigators or an Officer of some kind—meaning they were always the _commanders,_ never the _soldiers._ They couldn’t get into battle _ever._ Sure, Matsuri had led the destruction of the Von Rosewald family, but Hide was growing less and less convinced of that every passing minute.

They were protecting themselves. It wasn’t that they _ever_ wanted him.

They _needed_ him.

* * *

 

“Special Class,” Hide greeted quietly as he fell into step with the far larger man. “Can we have a word?”

“Of course, Nagachika. Where—”

“Walk and talk.” They were not close at all, but even he must have picked up on the serious tone of his. Hide wasn’t sure what he felt worse about: the subject or the person.

They walked in silence for a minute or two, and as Shinohara stopped at a crossing, Hide started.

“Do you ever doubt the CCG?”

His companion was silent until the light turned to green, ringing shrilly.

“Maybe. Why?”

They crossed the road quickly, not meeting eyes with anyone passing. “I think we should.”

“And you’re telling _me,_ of all people, because?”

“You have a wife, Special Class.” They stopped at another crossing. It occurred to Hide that he’d stopped Shinohara on his way home from work. “I think the CCG wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of you if they needed to.”

“They’ll need to once you’re done talking, I assume?” The taller man gave him a warm smile. “You’re too young to be realising these things, Nagachika. Let the geriatrics worry, like me.”

“The Washuu,” Hide said softly, letting the drone of the lights drown out his words. “Do you know how they make money, Shinohara?”

“No.”

Hide made no move to cross with him, so Shinohara waited. Inwardly, Hide sighed in relief. He’d stayed. He’d taken him seriously.

“Next Monday,” Hide said. “Akira and I are having dinner. She . . . well, she found something she shouldn’t have while she was looking for Takizawa. We trust you the most.”

“I take it I can’t bring Suzuya.”

“Unfortunately.”

Shinohara nodded pensively, shifting his weight between his feet. “You’re digging very deep, despite only being here a few months.”

“I can’t help it,” Hide tried to assure him, watching the red light blink at them. “Also, please don’t tell Amon. I’m . . . not entirely sure how it would go with him yet. He has a lot of faith in the system.”

“It’s one that’s supported him since he was a child,” Shinohara looked dead ahead. Hide knew that he was a Special Class for a reason: there was a certain obstinate, diamond-set quality about him. Something that made him infinitely stronger than other investigators.

Something akin to experience.

“The Washuu are worthy of suspicion,” Shinohara told him, and Hide watched the light flash to green. “But I hope you know what you’re doing, Rank Three. This is bigger than you.”

He walked off, and Hide felt like he was preparing for the apocalypse.

* * *

 

“Yoohoo! Mutsuki!” Hide waved at him across the car park. Their supervising Investigator was off talking to subordinates or _something—_ Hide didn’t really care for it at this stage, and he had a feeling that somehow he had won the trust of said Investigator for him to give him breathing room—and Mutsuki was currently jogging down towards him, heavy coat pulled over his shoulders against the evening chill and a bag slapping against his back.

“H-Hi, Nagachika,” Mutsuki smiled politely, looking for the rest of the gang. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Hide grinned, turning on heel to head back to Squad 7’s base. “And you can call me ‘Hide’. ‘Nagachika’ is so formal, man. Do I _look_ formal?”

Mutsuki spluttered nervously for a second, trying to form a reply. In a second Hide remembered that at that meeting he _had_ seemed overly formal. Stick up the arse formal. Holy shit.

“Oh, man—okay, my bad. I probably gave you the _worst_ first impression ever. Okay, lemme take two: call me Hide, I am a Rank Three, me and Yoshitoki have a _lot_ of beef and, well . . . look, I’m not _always_ like that, yeah? Only when shit is official, I promise. I’m really chill. I don’t even know what the orders are. I’m just here to keep you company.”

If anything, his partner looked grateful he had the ability to talk for so long without expecting a reply. He nodded quickly, his face set and determined. “I’m glad, Na—Hide.” Even if the _Hide-san_ was awkward off his tongue, Hide couldn’t help but beam at him.

Heading to the office, Hide filled Mutsuki’s silence with his own aimless chatter. What he was doing at school, what the 20th ward was like, how _young_ Mutsuki was (but he carefully avoided the topic after seeing the brief flash of something else in his face), how the weather was _finally_ warming up, how he’d come from the country and even offered to teach him colloquial swears that the city couldn’t match.

It helped bury the dread that came with the operation.

It helped bury the dread that the CCG were the people he was fighting against.

It helped bury the guilt that Seidou needed their help but all he was doing was buying time.

It was only during the mission briefing that Hide realised something even worse.

The footage. The footage from the chopper. It was probably visible to every Officer in the CCG— _especially_ the Washuu. If they knew that, then why would they send him back here for the same purpose? Why would they want to put him _back_ in contact with Kaneki?

According to the CCG, he had met Kaneki twice: the previous operation, and then the Docklands raid.

Apparently, as a Rank Three that wasn’t “officially” part of the CCG, he wasn’t ‘meant’ to submit any reports. That, naturally, didn’t make any sense to Hide but he wasn’t going to push it. This meant that they had no idea how the fight during the raid was ‘meant’ to be. They had no idea what the chances were of Kaneki ‘killing’ him here, if the reports he _would_ have written were true. They had no inkling.

That was why they had sent Mutsuki, he realised. If Mutsuki reported back suspicious behaviour between the two of them, then they’d go looking for him. They’d exploit him. They’d try and capture Kaneki, just like V.

And if Mutsuki _didn’t_ report anything amiss, then . . . Hide wasn’t sure what then. Maybe they’d try and force them into mutual respect that made Hide safer so they could exploit Kaneki _another_ way.

But what if they _wanted_ Hide to be hurt? What if they were hoping Kaneki would be so angry to see him again that Hide died? He knew that wasn’t at all the case, but if they _were_ hoping for something like that, it would make even more sense to send Mutsuki. A witness. A continuation of the same operation.

As V, what was their goal? Hide had every inkling that they wanted to catch Kaneki, just as they had attempted earlier. The fact that they hadn’t yet sieged the place was another major factor that had tipped Hide off to their lesser-than-legal side: if they really _were_ working for the sake of peace in Tokyo, then they wouldn’t _have_ any other agenda and would have organised that the place be razed instantly.

God, things had been much simpler when Hide hadn’t connected too many dots. He’d already been a complete _fuckwit_ and blew up in Yoshitoki’s face. Any day could be his last as a free man. Even if the will put a pause on it, he was sure they were scheming in their angry, geriatric Washuu ways to ‘get’ him.

“Nagachika, have you paid attention at all during this meeting?”

“Every word, Investigator,” Hide said with a smile. “All of it.”

* * *

 

Air felt like poison on his skin beneath the skirt as Mutsuki swallowed the growing nausea in his stomach. Talking to Hide, who had seemed boisterous and positive even in the night, and the officer who had offered reassuring smiles to his _obviously_ under-aged self, Mutsuki had been able to ignore it as best he could, sidelining it and focusing on the other things instead.

Except he couldn’t.

Mutsuki didn’t _want_ to blame anyone for the weakness he possessed. He’d worn a dress last time as well, except last time he’d been alone with the spindly Furuta for company, who had abandoned him three minutes in and somehow Mutsuki had plucked up the courage to see the mission through and then walk himself back to the CCG office, ten minutes away.

He’d gone home, used hot shower water to erase the evidence on his skin, and had come too close to balling up the dress and throwing it out. His hands had shaken with panic and residual terror and discomfort, but in the end he had sighed and tossed it into the laundry basket for Shirazu to wash later on.

He was Mutsuki Tooru. He was a man, he told himself over and over. A man. A man. A man. He was strong enough to wear a dress and be feminine without changing who he wanted to be. He was. He _was._

Back then, he’d made himself believe it.

Not so much anymore.

The bar would be crowded with men and women, people in posh suits and people who had crawled out of sidewalk hell to be there. To get drunk. To . . . to do God knows what, and Mutsuki was becoming less and less convinced that he could even _fathom_ going in there, where he knew their eyes would linger and their fingertips would brush his wrist and leave Mutsuki scrubbing for hours, afraid he’d get a rash from the touch.

He was afraid. His hands shook where they gripped at the porcelain sink of the Ward Office, the small toilet kept painfully clean and bland, smelling of cheap air freshener and soap. God, he was afraid.

He was going in there with Hide. Even if . . . even if Hide didn’t seem threatening, even if Mutsuki found the slightest of solace in his company, it didn’t quell his fear. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and curl up on the couch with a book and coffee while Shirazu skimmed channels looking for something to watch before deciding that they should just sleep. He didn’t want to be _here._

_But you are,_ he tried to tell himself. _You’re here._

The makeup felt thick and clammy on his skin after being carefully applied by a female investigator for him. His eyelids were sticking together with every blink, and every time he tried to lick his lips the sour chemical taste of the lipstick flowed into his mouth like the bitter burn of shampoo.

He wanted to go home.

“The . . . the objective,” he whispered to himself, clenching and unclenching his fists on the sink, “is to locate Kaneki Ken.”

He breathed out, steadying himself.

“Investigator Nagachika will get his attention. Depending on the type of reaction, either let Nagachika engage you into the conversation or turn to the manager. Nagachika will not be killed in the bar.” The sentence was far too heavy and toxic on his tongue for his liking, but he said it again.

“Nagachika will not be killed in the bar.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Furuta had taken long enough of a time to remind him of _Helter Skelter’s_ strict policies: no violence inside. If Hide were to be killed, then Kaneki would take him outside. In that window, Mutsuki was to approach the manager and ask for a bodyguard to escort him home—the block of flats next to the CCG office. Then he would pay them, they’d leave, and Mutsuki would return alone.

Hide must know this. Hide had to know this.

“ _Nagachika received passing marks in self-defence,”_ Furuta had told him last time. _“But if he were to fight anyone, he’d probably die.”_

Then why was Hide so calm?

The knock on the door shook him and Mutsuki swallowed the yelp he’d nearly made. “Time to go, Mutsuki!”

Hide had to know, right? Even if Mutsuki was grasping at straws when he tried to figure the guy out, he had to _know_ to be so calm. He had to know that he could die if he stepped into that bar. He had to, right?

What if he didn’t?

_“Every word,”_ he’d said. He’d listened to the briefing. The Investigator had warned Hide about the dangers after the raid, about how members there might recognise his face, about how both of them were in danger, and Mutsuki had glanced towards him to see a stony gaze set on the far wall. Was he listening? Or was he thinking?

Maybe Mutsuki didn’t know anything. Maybe Hide . . . maybe he _wanted_ to go in there.

No. No, surely not.

Grimacing, he unlocked the door and stepped out, prepared for Hide’s scrutiny. He was prepared for the mild surprise, the glace up and down, taking in the clothing before saying something ‘funny’ like “huh, a dress.”

To either his surprise of disappointment, Hide hadn’t waited for him. No, he was off chatting to people quickly and jovially, a voice loud enough to border on yelling as he waved his hands wildly. There was a pause, and Mutsuki didn’t seem to be able to pick apart the syllables they were saying, because the next instant Hide said something starkly _not_ the Japanese he was used to and the other Investigators burst out into peals of laughter.

Hide could die in this mission. Did anyone _realise_ that?

His ears were ringing, and he tuned into what they were saying. “Do it again! Do it again!”

The same off-kilter accent saying “Good evening, everyone”, and more laughter. An accent?

“Nah, nah—it’s not that good. My dad has this _great_ accent, like—my mum is from Tokyo, so she doesn’t, but _man._ It’s like—it’s like—”

Nagachika Hideyoshi could come out dead from this mission, and no one seemed to care.

* * *

 

It was painfully loud. The bass thrummed in Hide’s ears, and he held Mutsuki’s elbow, navigating the burly crowd to the bar, where to his relief he saw Touka working. At least they had _one_ ally, here.

She gave him one piercing look before turning back to her work, and Hide almost wanted to whine. There were two seats empty, just enough or him and Mutsuki to fit in and wait for Kaneki to show up. Hide wasn’t sure if he was out or whether he was actually in like the CCG hoped. It didn’t make him too certain.

“Excuse me! We’d like to order drinks!”

Touka glared at him again before looking at Mutsuki instead. “What would you like?”

“I—uh, I’m not—”

“Give . . . give her something to nurse,” Hide butted in for him. “She’s new to drinking.” He gave Mutsuki an apologetic look, but the younger boy smiled gratefully.

Touka nodded, reaching back and popping a beer for him before sliding it along the bench. “And you, blondie?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Oh, my. The _options._ ” Hide knew for a fact she’d probably stare at him hard enough to kill him after this. “Have a beer. No Furuta here to creep you out?”

“Not tonight,” Hide chirped, grinning as she handed him the glass of frothy amber beer. He didn’t know what kind it was, and knowing Touka he sort of didn’t want to. “I don’t work _all_ the time.”

“Fine. Here to see the manager again?”

“If you can’t get us Kaneki, of course.”

Touka ‘tsk’ed angrily as she poured more drinks, lining them up on the bar. “He’s out on a job. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Hide gave another glance to Mutsuki, who had yet to touch the drink he’d been served. Instead, he kept a watchful eye around the room, both eyes wide and nervous like a skittish animal. He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch today, and the shock of seeing two green eyes instead of one made him seem impossibly younger. He was only sixteen, for fuck’s sake. Wasn’t the CCG pushing it to send someone like him here?

There was a loud rattling that Hide recognised as the door opening, and the sound of laboured bodies shuffling. Touka looked past him at the door, scowling heavily.

“What a shame,” she said. “You’re right.”

There was a loud _thump_ to his right, and the man Hide had been sitting beside turned. Hide turned too, just in time to see Kaneki hold out a hand, palm-up.

Money. He was asking for payment.

On the floor was a far larger man, thoroughly battered up and clutching at his middle, where blood had stained the white fabric of his shirt. The chatter in the bar dimmed for a moment or two, watching as the man writhed in pain and Kaneki wordlessly waited for compensation.

Then the music went on and people turned back to what they were doing. Hide followed their example, burying the unease as he stared into the glass, watching bubbles pop through the foam. Mutsuki had turned away. Touka polished glasses.

He saw from the corner of his eye the man hand over a wad of cash that Kaneki counted quickly, and Hide nearly jumped when he said, “You’re short.”

“I asked for the body to be disposed of,” the man defended, calm. “And yet you brought him all the way here, still kicking.”

“So if I were to kill you here, I could find that remaining money in your wallet, I assume?”

Hide wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to hearing Kaneki talk like that. It still sent shivers down his spine, because Hide knew Kaneki had done that in the past, and would probably do it again.

“You would, yes.” It was amazing how calm the man seemed to take this. “But you can’t do that.”

“For 50,000 yen, I just might.”

“Kaneki,” Touka warned, “no violence inside.”

The silence between them became painfully tense, until eventually Kaneki waved it off. “Take him and go. I have more things to do than argue with you.”

Oh, boy. Hide hadn’t really considered what he’d be doing at this point. Kaneki was good at acting— _superb,_ even. Sweat started to break out on his neck, harsh and cold against the stiff fold of his collar whenever he looked around. How was much was safe to give away with Mutsuki here? If he was alone Hide wouldn’t have cared, but . . .

There were thousands of eyes watching him, and he’d been ignoring them.

The man left, and for a while Kaneki did too, before he came back and sat down beside Hide. Touka gave him a drink he didn’t move to hold.

“These two are here for you,” she said nonchalantly, and Hide wanted to give her a standing ovation. Thank _God_ they could carry an act.

Kaneki looked at him, mouth ready to form a word but then his eyes focused behind his shoulder, and he was standing so quickly he nearly spilled his glass. Behind him, Mutsuki made a sound and got to his feet, and Hide felt a hand on his shoulder before the sound of a bottle shattering silenced the entire room.

Mutsuki’s drink. The bottle had shattered all over the floor, undrunk alcohol running across the wood.

“Back to your business,” Touka snapped loudly enough for the attention to fade. It didn’t matter, though.

Kaneki had Mutsuki’s wrist in a vice grip, his other hand holding the boy’s chin and twisting his head to look at his usually-covered eye.

“What’s your name?” Kaneki asked sharply, releasing him to pick up a shard of glass off the ground. “Kid. What’s your name?”

“Kaneki, stop.” Hide was standing before he realised, putting himself between them. “Calm down.”

Kaneki glared at him sourly, rolling a sharp piece of glass in his hands.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Move out of the way, H— Nagachika.” Kaneki pressed a hand on the bar, raising the shard of glass above it. “Let her see.”

“Him, Kaneki. _Him_.”

Impatiently, Kaneki shoved him aside. It happened too quickly—he glanced back to see Mutsuki’s eyes fixed on Kaneki’s hand, and the next second Kaneki had stabbed the glass right through it unflinchingly with a sharp _thud._

He pulled it free quickly, holding it out to the paralysed Mutsuki. Hide didn’t trust himself to speak, watching the wound close before his very eyes.

It didn’t take a genius to read Mutsuki’s face: it was the shock of recognition. Of  _familiarity._

_Quinx._ The word screamed in Hide’s head. _Quinx._

“What the fuck,” Kaneki started lowly, “is the CCG doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! If there isn't a new chapter earlier, then I hope you all have fabulous Christmases and eat a lot of good food! ~~also steal Aunt Carol's earrings and put them on the tree that's the only way to do it right~~


	56. No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some answers and a lot more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suh dudes
> 
> feelin really motivated to write so expect at least another chapter before xmas

_“Ah, it’s nothing, guys.” Jiro shied away from their prying eyes, covering her face. “I just caught a bug or something. It’ll heal up.”_

_“Let me have a look, sweetie.” With Irimi’s coaxing, Jiro let her eye be examined._

_At the start, it didn’t look any different from a regular eye infection. Kaneki’s worry subsided considerably as Irimi checked it for the usual redness, the slight puffy skin and wateriness. It was fine, he told himself. It was fine._

_By the time they got up for mealtime, after three tense night patrols, they saw that it was no ordinary eye infection. He’d been awoken by Jiro’s quiet crying. He remembered the sight: her slight, malnourished form curled up in Irimi’s embrace, pressed into her shoulder. Her hair, once trimmed to a bob, had all been shaved away for the electrodes Kanou had been using. All of theirs had._

_He remembered the hard, fathomless lines of heartbreak in Irimi’s face as she held her there, whispering words of comfort that were hollow. She was already wishing her a peaceful passing._

_The infection was different. The redness had come back in full force, turning the eye almost black with burst blood vessels beneath the skin, and the iris had filled with blood and pus. Her tear duct was so swollen it caused her pain to cry, but in despair, Jiro didn’t know what else to do._

_Jiro died that day. Kaneki hadn’t been there to wish her goodbye. He’d been locked in that lab room, screaming and crying but this time, just this time, he had begged to see her. He had begged to see her go even though deep down, he wanted to pretend that what he didn’t see didn’t happen._

_It happened._

_“Therapy rejection” he heard one of the workers say as his head was pummelled into the ground. “A lot of them have had it.”_

_First it was Jiro. Then a few. Then ten. Then twenty._

_He remembered distinctly the stages of its development: a normal infection, but something in the eyeball changed. Something bleached it of health before all the vessels popped and somehow it affected the rest of the organs and they died. He’d never known the precise cause. He never needed to._

_After that wave, testing progressed. People’s hearts gave out on the tables they were strapped to. Sante, her brother, had been one of them._

_Then, people just . . . died. Their bodies were too tired and too destroyed to mend themselves. Colds became fatal. There was not enough food to support them and they starved._

_Soon, the cell that had once been over-packed was empty except for three of them: Irimi, Koma, and Kaneki._

* * *

 

The glass shards bit into her fingers as she tossed them methodically into the bin. Hide was helping to mop up the spilled beer, but she could tell he was just trying to calm himself.

Touka hadn’t seen that look in Kaneki’s eyes for a very long time. Like he’d seen a ghost.

She’d noticed, from her position, that Mutsuki’s eye was ever so slightly red. She’d thought maybe the makeup had affected his eye, or that maybe the spring had made them sensitive or _whatever._

Certainly, not to Kaneki.

Of all the things he could have done, he’d stabbed his own hand through. She’d already cleaned the bench of blood, but she couldn’t _think_ of a reason for him to lose his cool like that. His day had been . . . well, she relied on Hide to tell her but apparently it had been fine. _Fine._ So why had he snapped?

“Kaneki doesn’t usually go off like that, does he?” Hide said to her as he stood, wringing out the towel above the bin. “I mean; he hasn’t before, right?”

“Not since he stopped going after Kanou.” Touka reached around to grab the dustpan she’d left, brushing up the remaining shards she could see. “God, I thought he was going to blow a fuse, and _that_ wouldn’t be a good mess to be in.”

“Give him _some_ slack,” Hide joked, squatting down again. “He’d probably start screaming first. Then we should shuffle him outside.”

“You’re terrible,” Touka sighed. “But you’re right.”

“I was joking, Touka. It’s okay.” Hide grinned, and Touka absolutely hated how okay the presence of Nagachika Hideyoshi made things seem. In some traitorous corner of her mind, Touka drifted back to the fantastical idea that maybe, one day, she and Yoriko could be co-workers at a bar, chatting between them as they handled beer. Maybe Touka could impress her with her experience. Maybe they’d organise staff parties and be young and stupid like she watched other kids her age from a distance.

Hide had probably had those days. Maybe that was why.

“Well, that’s all cleaned up.” Hide wiped his hands on the towel, hanging it across the side of the bin. “I’m going to plan my lines for confronting the next great nuclear meltdown with a borrowed dress shirt.”

Touka wanted to tell him. She remembered the last time she’d seen that look; some nondescript person had jogged into the bar, ranting and raving until they got Kaneki’s attention. They pulled out a photo or two and Touka heard the word ‘ _Kanou’_ and _‘Doctor’_ , before Kaneki had turned ghostly pale and run out into the night after the informant.

She wasn’t even sure how long it had been until he came back, looking no different except with a dozen more kills to his name as Kaneki Ken.

_Doctor Kanou._ A CCG coroner who had gone rogue and disappeared. Doctor Kanou, the man at the heart of Kaneki’s rage. She’d let the name slip to Itori, who had only smiled back in response, asking, “and what could you offer in return?”

She was certain he’d been the reason Kaneki had become the way he was. Maybe it was her limited knowledge, but only a doctor could experiment. Only a doctor. A doctor set out to heal, and they’d healed Kaneki far too well.

She wanted to tell Hide, but it wasn’t hers to tell. It wasn’t her story. It was not hers to own and share. It was Kaneki’s.

To her fucking dismay.

“I don’t know how he’ll react.” She checked the order taped to the bar, waiting to be filled. Beers. Sake. Unwelcome and tedious cocktails she’d have to make on her own. “You’d better—”

“Hideyoshi!” The voice made Hide shudder in his seat, turning to look at the source. She followed his gaze to where Itori was waving and smiling, pearly teeth glowing in the light. “Let’s talk!”

_You’d better hurry,_ she was going to say.

_You’d better hurry up and get to him._

* * *

 

_“You are aware of what the Quinx project entails, correct?” Dr Shiba’s glasses were far too small for his face, sliding down his bent nose every time he glanced down at his page. Mutsuki could only imagine what it must be like to look from his file back to him. Still a child. Still a boy._

_“Yes,” Mutsuki replied. “I . . . we were educated thoroughly on the topic.”_

_“Good, then your application was aware of the risks.” Shiba stood, placing the clipboard down and instead pulling a trolley out from where it had been resting against the wall. On it were a variety of syringes and suspensions, all neatly arranged and kept sanitary._

_Mutsuki hated needles._

_“You may opt out at any time, Mutsuki.”_

_“I-I understand.” His voice shook dangerously, but he knew he couldn’t give up the opportunity. He’d heard it had been tested and created good results in the short-term. The Quinx project was to create a human that could live perpetually self-regenerating without the dangerous effects it would bring. Mutsuki hadn’t studied biology. There was a lengthy explanation of the chemical compounds in stem cells that changed their potency, but he didn’t catch on._

_All he gained was that samples of his stem cells would be taken via bone marrow biopsy, altered, and then put back in an attempt to breed these new cells. Shiba explained this patiently, holding out various vials. He explained that in the beginning stages, a controlled amount would be added with inbuilt coding that would stop their replication once they reached a certain number. Something to do with immunology that Mutsuki didn’t catch._

_Treatment levels. Stage one—or, as Shiba called it, ‘Frame 1’, where the number would be low. It would respond slowly with limited results._

_“We will be planting these altered cells back into your spine, as a biopsy. It should take around half an hour, maximum. Your health will then be under surveillance at your dorm. If you so much as hesitate about your health, you may contact us. You understand, right?”_

_“Yes,” he said._

_Shiba was treating him like a child, and Mutsuki disliked that he appreciated it._

_“Within a day or two, there may be . . . rejection.” Shiba’s tone was serious, and he pushed the glasses back up his narrow nose to sit before his eyes again. “It can range from high to low. Because of your high aptitude result, they should be very mild. Indigestion is one of them. Periodic heartburn. Sensitivity to your senses. You may suffer what we like to call ‘chronic hayfever’, meaning your immune system is always deficient.”_

_Mutsuki had heard this all before, but now he felt doubtful with the words being presented to him face-to-face, gauging his reactions and certainty. His mouth was too dry to speak, his tongue heavy and useless in his mouth, so he nodded instead._

_“There have been some cases where cancerous growths appear on the body.” Shiba pressed a needle into a red suspension, drawing the syringe full. His stomach rolled, and Mutsuki couldn’t help the shivering in his bones. He was scared, he realised. He was so very scared. “This is unlikely in your case, but it is a possibility. The chance that they will be malignant tumours is very low. Are you still certain?”_

_“Yes.” It didn’t sound like his own voice._

_“The frames are set to be a failsafe. This means that in Frame 1, the stem cells are not a permanent fixture. Over a few years, they will eventually die out from disuse. Frame 2 makes them more active in your body’s daily functioning, and so on and so forth until they are essentially the only form of cell in the body, anything beyond Frame 5. Of course, this is all hypothetical. We’ve tested it on mice, but . . . there is a degree of uncertainty when it comes to the higher frames.”_

_“I understand.”_

_Dr Shiba sighed, tapping the last of the air bubbles free of the solution in the syringe. “Very well. This injection is an immunosuppressant. Try and avoid eating before the biopsy tomorrow.”_

* * *

 

Mutsuki tasted mortality on the back of his throat. Even though the weather was warm, he felt like it was winter, shivering uncontrollably. His hands gripped at his skirt, shaking. Kaneki was also silent, but he wasn’t looking at him.

He was going to die. He’d known it the second he stared into Kaneki’s eyes when he’d stabbed his hand. Mutsuki was going to die here. Oh, God. He was going to die and he just wanted to go _home._

“What’s your name?” The sound of his voice shattered the silence, and Mutsuki jumped in his seat. Fuck. He wanted to answer out of fear, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. His teeth were chattering too roughly, his heart racing in his chest. He wanted to run but he felt like his feet were cased in cement. God. _God,_ help him.

Kaneki sighed, but it didn’t sound frustrated. It reminded him of Dr Shiba, tired after a day’s work and of possibly condemning someone to death. It didn’t sound like the man downstairs who had seized his wrist and stabbed his own hand without a second thought.

Slowly, Kaneki turned himself around, facing Mutsuki across the small desk in the room. It could have been a bedroom once, with a distinct vacancy in one corner of the room where a bed used to be and a small table turned desk at the far end. The window behind Kaneki was bolted shut, absent of curtains. Beyond it Mutsuki could see the rooftops of units and apartments that drifted away from the city into suburbia that stretched for an infinity. God, he wished he could climb out of the window and run.

Kaneki fumbled with a cigarette lighter, thinking.

“I’m not going to kill you, kid.” He set it aside, clasping his hands and staring back at Mutsuki with a gunmetal stare. “I know you work for the CCG, but I don’t kill children.”

It didn’t make him feel any better.

“What’s your name?” Kaneki tried again, softer. “Names are important.”

“M-M-Mutsuki To-Tooru,” he stuttered, gripping at his hands tight enough for his nails to dig in. They could have been bleeding. “My name’s Mutsuki Tooru.”

Kaneki nodded slowly, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Mutsuki took a deep breath, finding the space to try and calm himself. Maybe he wasn’t so in danger, after all. His nerves were still flighty and he wanted to leave, but it felt less dangerous.

“Mutsuki Tooru, what do you call the healing thing?”

“Quinx.”

Kaneki thought on this for a moment, leaning back in his chair. He stared at his hands for so long Mutsuki was sure the sun would be rising when he glanced back out the window, but then Kaneki spoke again.

“Do you know I recognised your . . . your ‘Quinx’ business?”

“N-no.”

Kaneki tapped his face, right under his right eye. “Your eye. It’s an infection, right? Chronic?”

“ . . . Yes.”

“Do they give you pills for that?” Mutsuki nodded slowly, afraid to anger him. Kaneki watched the movement like a hawk, gnawing on his lower lip in thought.

“Is it . . . did they run tests on your organs when you realised it?”

“Yeah. It all came up negative. Just the eye.”

“Oh, thank God.” For something that carried so much relief, all Kaneki could do was whisper it into his hands. “Thank _God_.”

_Why?_ Mutsuki was too close to asking it for his comfort. Here was a man who . . . who was a living example of what the CCG _wanted._ They wanted what he had. Unconditional healing. Mutsuki had heard rumours that even a kill shot would heal in a few minutes. What was he meant to make of it? Was this why the CCG had sent him in? Was _this_ why they had chosen him?

Kaneki righted himself with great effort, straightening in his chair. “That infection . . . It’s not a normal one, I know. I don’t know what causes it either. There are times when it’s connected to your organs and they shut down and die, so . . .” he gnashed his teeth in thought until his train of thought was cut off by another.

“How old are you?”

“Six—” his voice died as he realised how afraid Kaneki looked of the answer. Why? Kaneki Ken was just a hit man. He was a murderer, he was . . . he was a criminal. He couldn’t care about Mutsuki at all.

So why did he look so concerned?

“Sixteen,” he murmured weakly.

Kaneki cursed under his breath, glaring at his hands.

“Do they hurt you?”

Mutsuki wasn’t really sure who had spoken, Kaneki, or a ghost.

“What?”

“Has the CCG ever hurt you for . . . for research?” he looked panicked now, clenching his fists as they shook. “Have they?”

“No!” Mutsuki realised, with a sinking feeling, what he meant. “No, no, no! Never! I mean, I get injections, but . . . no, never!”

“Listen to me, Mutsuki,” Kaneki stood, leaning forward on the table as if to drive his words home faster than he already was. “ _Never_ let them hurt you, okay? Don’t ever let them touch you. You’re _not_ a lab rat.”

Why would Kaneki Ken care at all about him?

“I’m a walking hypocrite, I know.” He slumped back in his chair running a hand through his hair, unnaturally white between his fingers. “I’m ‘Kaneki Ken’, the big bad wolf. I know, I know. God, what am I saying . . . ?”

“I’ll promise not to let them hurt me if you don’t hurt Hide.”

Kaneki snapped to attention, and Mutsuki clamped his mouth shut. Shit. Shit, why had he said that? The idea was so dumb and desperate that he’d just—fuck, he was _in for it_ now.

For a second, Kaneki looked ready to agree.

Until he didn’t.

“No.”

* * *

 

“So, did you check out that tip I gave you?” Itori’s face was happily flushed, her smile lazy as she watched him. He tried to focus on how one slip-up would fuck up _everything_ rather than the events following said ‘tip’.

“Yes,” he said, careful not to say anything more about the details of it. “It was inconclusive.”

“Dropping like flies, they are. I can’t _imagine_ why.” Itori chuckled to herself as she took another swig of wine, the intimidating grace gone from her usual façade and instead replaced with something suddenly more frightening. “Can you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

She smirked before emptying the glass in one final motion. “Listen, Hide,” she tapped the table in absent thought, “if you tell me this little development about the CCG that I’ve been hearing about, I might just tell you.”

Her hair was blood red like her lips, like her wine, like her nails.

“There aren’t any new developments with the CCG.”

“No, no. It’s not new at all. But _you_ are.” Instead of leaning forward like he had expected her to do, she sat back and straightened in her seat, all the casualness gone. She wanted business.

“And apparently, you know quite a bit about the Washuu family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not a scientist and i know f all about stem cell chemistry. i am very sorry. all i did was look at biology notes from Back In The Day and scrape this theory together.
> 
> 5 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS???? (for me, anyway. but still) So CLOSE TO CHRISTMAS???? 
> 
> I hope you all stay safe and well and happy and enjoy them Family Times and eat lots and enjoy the weather however you like it, don't get food poisoning from that bad potato salad and enjoy the festivities and get awesome presents and win all those games on your iPhone when you're scared of socialising with your fam that has suddenly become 300 big and you are v smol.   
> (i also hope you dont get too scared to socialise with them cousins from the other side of the world too. we're nice i promise.)
> 
> THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR READING AND EVERYTHING ELSE YOU GUYS DO THAT I LOVE!


	57. Interstellar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o boi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was meant to be more serious but that Christmas Spirit™ got me so yeah please enjoy it.  
> it's a mess. im so sorry. i havent even read it through. very sorry please forgive a tired human being.

“Failure is a bitter mistress, huh.” Itori waved a worker over; a girl with short hair held back with a moon clip. “Another glass, Roma.”

Hide watched her go, heart sinking as he did. He didn’t knowhow they were doing. Kaneki could be at any kind of extreme, and so could Mutsuki. For all the things Hide had considered, Kaneki instantly recognising Mutsuki as a Quinx had _not_ been one. He’d overthought it all. He hadn’t entertained that in the slightest.

“Watanabe Takashi died surrounded by loved ones,” Itori smiled, watching his brain tick. “You gave him that. He could have died in the night, completely alone.”

“I have nothing to give you, Itori. Let’s end this.”

“Calm down, Hide,” Itori purred, “have a drink. Have a chat. There’s no rush. Your operation goes for three hours, doesn’t it?”

It should have surprised him less that she already knew.

“Listen, Hide, it’s not every day that someone has news that I want, but today might be your lucky day.” She swirled the liquid in her glass slowly, carefully training her eyes on his face. “I may just tell you whatever you want in return.”

Hide tried to calculate which was the best option: leave immediately, which could make Itori angry and ruin his chances of coming back, as well as causing Kaneki’s workplace to become hostile for him _and_ Touka, or if he should waste precious time talking to her. In that time, what was happening? Hide liked to think he knew Kaneki well, but no one in this building could predict exactly how he’d react to a stimulus so deep down. Would he be angry? He couldn’t hear a thing from upstairs, which he hoped was a good sign, because it could very well have been a terrible one. Would he strike out at Mutsuki? Would Mutsuki try and pick a fight? Or would he just shut down like he had weeks back? What would he _do_?

He’d been clear enough to remember the act, at least. Hide hoped that meant he was still thinking well enough to know not to hurt anyone— _especially_ himself.

Ten minutes. He could talk for ten minutes only.

“All right.” Hide met her gaze, and her face instantly lit up. “Let’s talk.”

“Not here.” Itori stood with the languid grace of a predator. He knew that he’d lost to her, but he really had no other choice. All he could do now was try and piece together what he wanted to know from her end of the deal.

She led him through the door he had watched Kaneki emerge from, all those weeks ago. Directly in front of him was a staircase, but Itori turned right to a corridor that led to a change room directly behind the bar, and then two smaller offices along the other side. She led him into one, small and clean with a parka hanging on the back of the door.

“Now we can talk in a bit more privacy, hmm?” Itori lowered herself into the seat, gesturing for him to do the same. Hide had never been afraid of attention before, but he _really_ didn’t enjoy the way she watched every movement, picking it apart and measuring how much she could get from him.

This was a perfect chance to get her in his debt, he realised.

“You want to know about the Washuu, right?” Itori nodded, eyes glittering dangerously. Hide rolled his shoulders, leaning into his seat. “Okay. But I want to know something in return.”

“What’s that?”

“There is a way to get around Tokyo without being seen, isn’t there?” At this, her smile thinned, and she nodded. Hide mulled this over. “Tell me about it.”

“The sewer system,” she said. “Built decades and decades ago, they’re littered with tunnels that take you all over the city. I doubt the majority of people know they exist.”

“So who built them?”

“Who else?” Itori’s teeth flashed, as bright and as sharp as a blade. “V.”

“What a coincidence,” Hide said.

* * *

 

 _No_?

“Why?” His heart dropped, his hopes falling away with it. He’d been _sure_ Kaneki would agree. He’d been so sure—it was so dumb and _simple_ that he was sure it would work. He’d been _sure._

Kaneki shook his head slowly, staring at the table with dejection. “Just . . . no.”

Every shred of the fear he’d tried to thin came back in a wave, crashing against him and turning him to ice. Oh, God. What if Hide came here now, and— and—

“Please don’t kill him,” Mutsuki said, dragging the words out of his chest. “He’s a good guy, I promise! He’s—”

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Kaneki cut him off. “Calm down. I’m not going to kill your partner.”

“Then why?” If he pulled on the fabric any harder, his skirt would tear. He wanted it to. His hands were shaking badly, slick with sweat at the folds of his wrist, shaking uncontrollably. “Why ‘no’?”

“Because you fucking suck at making deals.” Mutsuki dared to look up in time to see Kaneki smiling wryly at him. “Worse than Nagachika.”

“I’m sorry.” Even if he wanted to calm down, he couldn’t. The nervous energy was trapped in his hands, in his legs, his heels quivering above the ground. His face felt clammy with sweat, and he couldn’t look away from his hands. Time was running out. He’d been dumb, he’d been stupid—he’d just said what came to mind, and he regretted it. Every second he tried to say that Kaneki meant it when he said he wouldn’t kill him, but it became harder and harder as the silence stretched between them, pulling taut like a bowstring.

He heard Kaneki give a heavy sigh, and his chair creaked as he shifted on it. “Your safety isn’t a condition for a deal. It isn’t something to bet. Your _health_ isn’t either. Your superior makes that mistake a lot.”

The questions bubbled up on his tongue as if his mouth were filling with water, threatening to spill. What was Hide to him? Why did he care about Mutsuki? Why didn’t he want them dead? Why didn’t he care they were CCG? Why was he saying these things? Didn’t he expect Mutsuki to be . . . to be better than this? He was trained. He’d passed the academy. Sure, he hadn’t had a good time, but he’d passed. He was qualified for field work. That meant he had to be good. So why _wasn’t_ he? Was he so bad that _Kaneki Ken_ of all people was taking pity on him?

“You’re free to go,” Kaneki said softly. “Come on. No one will pay me for killing you anyway, Mutsuki Tooru. Go look after yourself.”

There were a mountain of things neither of them was saying, but Mutsuki didn’t have the courage to voice any of it.

The sound of footsteps on the staircase startled both of them, familiar with the sound of each creaking step. Kaneki shifted, and Mutsuki saw a glint of something sharp: a knife.

Should Mutsuki be armed as well? Who would be coming up here?

“No one comes up here,” Kaneki murmured,” so why . . . ?”

The door was thrown open, and Mutsuki saw the startled face of Nagachika Hideyoshi.

“Jesus, I come in peace, guys!”

* * *

 

The sight of Hide was like a kick in the stomach, winding him thoroughly. It hadn’t even been a day since he’d seen him last, but Kaneki didn’t know how he would have lasted another minute without him.

The CCG. The fucking _CCG._

Mutsuki was just a kid. A kid they’d forced into a dress and sent unarmed into the heart of enemy territory. Just for him. Looking at that eye was enough to numb his hands instantly. By now they were stinging, stabbing pins and needles with every movement.

He was sixteen years old.

Just like Kaneki had been.

The air seemed lighter with Hide in it, and Kaneki realised that the knife in his hand was devastatingly heavy. He slid it back into his pocket as Hide inched his way around to them, deliberately cautious.

“I come in peace, I come in peace,” Hide continued to murmur, smiling tentatively. “Don’t shoot.”

“I was just telling him he could go.” The formality sounded alien, but Kaneki didn’t care. He wanted the night to be over. He was so tired. “You can both go.”

“I might just talk to you for a bit, _Mr_ Kaneki.” His eyes glinted as he said _Kaneki-san,_ thoroughly amused. Kaneki almost smiled back. “If you have time, that is.”

“Time is money.”

“Mutsuki, wait for me in the bar, okay?” Hide squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, smiling. “The barmaid will look after you. She’s nice, okay? Just stick with her.”

If anything, the boy looked ecstatic to be leaving. Kaneki couldn’t shake the concern he felt—any day, Mutsuki could be injured. He could be subjected to ‘experiments’ at any second. The idea terrified Kaneki. The idea of history, in all its horrifying poetic glory, would repeat itself, terrified him. It sapped the warmth out of him and Kaneki wasn’t sure how it would ever come back, even in the middle of summer.

The door closed, and Hide slowly lowered himself into his seat. “Tough day at work?”

“You could say that.”

The walls had ears, Kaneki knew. Anyone could be listening. Itori probably already knew everything about them. Last time, they’d whispered and panicked, and Kaneki couldn’t believe how well everything had turned out. This time was different, he knew. Hide has told him about it. Hide had warned him.

He still hated it.

By the time he left here, walked back to his apartment, cleaned up himself, the rooms, organised his stuff for tomorrow—by the time he’d done all that, he would have buried everything he had to say. The moment would have passed, and Kaneki wasn’t sure how he’d ever broach the subject again.

It was both comforting and terrifying.

“Pleasure talking to you,” Hide said at last, snapping the silence between them. “Guess I’ll be off, then.”

He stood, and Kaneki stood with him. Hide smiled, and Kaneki remembered how so recently, he’d found him in a shop. How he’d cried. How, just so recently, Hide had broken down and now he was back like nothing had ever happened.

What did someone do, to deserve that strength?

“You’re okay.” Kaneki wondered at what point they had taken to telling each other this than asking. “It’s gonna be fine.”

The window felt like the evil eye staring down at him, so Kaneki reached past Hide to switch the light off. Even if only a little more private, it eased the worry gnawing at his gut.

In the dark, Hide held out his arms expectantly, and Kaneki nearly jumped into them, holding as tight as he dared. Last time, Kaneki remembered, he had been panicking and worrying, and through it all they had somehow kissed and Hide had gone back safe and well. This time he didn’t have it in him. Neither of them did. The day was old and Kaneki felt like he’d aged a century with it.

He’d been ignoring it, this whole time.

That day, that time, that night, he’d chosen Hide. He’d chosen Hide over Kanou. He’d chosen saving someone over killing another. He didn’t regret it. He would never regret saving Hide, but he’d be lying if traitorous dissatisfaction had grown and festered in the neglect. Kanou was still experimenting. Kanou was still taking people.

Kanou was still _breathing._

And the CCG was here to take up his mantel.

Mutsuki Tooru.

Quinx Project.

 _The world is wrong,_ he had told himself. He had repeated it over and over, a mantra as he dragged himself out of Hell, one step at a time, destroying everything around him until he had found himself back in Tokyo. _This world is wrong, this world is wrong._

He had forgotten too much with Hide. Hide sad soothed the old aches. Sated his anger. He had cooked him food and wiped the blood off his cheeks. He had bound a knee that Kaneki had selfishly re-broken before Hide arrived so he wouldn’t have to see the warped mess it had become. Hide, who had cut the bullets out of his limbs and back and apologised for the pain Kaneki was too familiar with. Hide, whom he had saved just in time.

Hide, who was trapped in the CCG.

 _This world is wrong,_ he thought, and it almost felt nostalgic.

_This world is wrong._

* * *

 

Two weeks had passed. Now, Mutsuki found himself under the cold gaze of Washuu Matsuri, leafing through his hand-submitted report of the operation.

“What about Rank Three Nagachika?”

“Nothing unusual to report.”

Matsuri looked thoroughly disappointed.

* * *

 

“You’ve been promoted.” Amon looked as shocked by the news as Hide did, pale as he held out the A4-sized envelope to Hide. “I got the message just now.”

“Me?” Unsure, Hide took it and ripped it open, and was presented by a small page that reminded him of a grade school certificate.

_Rank Three Nagachika Hideyoshi has been promoted to Rank One after his noteworthy participation in the docklands raid and intelligence work. Congratulations._

Yoshitoki probably laughed as he wrote it.

“I’m a Rank One,” Hide repeated aloud. He glanced back up at Amon, whose shock was slowly fading to happiness, and Hide grinned.

“I’m a Rank One!”

* * *

 

“Yo, Sis.” Ayato’s hand was shaking as he held her his report. It had come in the mail that day, a week after sitting his exams. For the first time in his life, he’d worked hard. He’d studied. He’d asked teachers. He’d asked _Kaneki._

He’d asked his fucking _sister_ for help.

“Read it for me, would ya?”

Touka met his gaze levelly, blowing the steam off the top of her coffee. Slowly, she lowered it and took it from his grasp. He could feel the nerves in the soles of his feet, so he lowered himself into a chair shakily.

Touka, unused to gentle movements, was already scanning the page.

“Do you want to know your results?”

“Y-yeah.” Ayato swallowed hard. “Did I . . . I dunno how well I did. Tell me.”

“Let’s start with art. An A.” A load lifted off Ayato’s shoulders. The subject, he enjoyed. His teacher seemed to tolerate him as well. “Japanese lit, a C+!”

He smiled. That was good. He’d been failing all year. “What about science?”

“C,” Touka quipped. “Not bad, not bad. Teacher says you made stupid errors.”

“Okay, okay. I must have done okay in sport, right?”

“Don’t rush me, punk.” Touka glared at him for a moment, before shrugging. “But, yeah. You got an A in sports.”

“English you got a D+.”

“I can live with that.”

“Mathematics, a C.” Touka looked impressed. “And in classics you got a B.”

“Did I . . . is that good?”

Touka was smiling, already snapping a picture to send to Hinami. Ayato felt his face burn instantly, and he tried to snatch the paper away, but the text was already sent.

“I had to share it with her!” Touka ruffled his hair roughly. “Get changed. We’ll eat out to celebrate.”

* * *

 

“Kaneki’s become so soft, hasn’t he?” Itori smiled to herself, trying to get Uta’s attention. “Can you even remember how he was when he came in?”

“Oh, I remember.” Uta sloshed the liquid in his cup. “He was _startling_ to say the least.”

“That’s one way to put it. When do you think he’ll come back, hmm?”

Uta smirked into his glass. “No idea.”

* * *

 

The food tasted dull in her mouth, but Touka didn’t care. It was a celebration. Hinami even video-called them from her dorm to congratulate him. Two more weeks, and she’d be home for the summer.

Except Kaneki wasn’t here.

Ayato was grinning, and it felt like an eternity since they had gotten along like this. Weeks ago, Ayato had come up to her and asked her to explain biology to him. He knew she liked it. He knew she would help him.

He’d sat with Kaneki, who explained what to write about in an essay. He went through the text with Ayato with patience she had seen long ago, the same gentle persistence that had taught Hinami how to read.

Maths had been a combined effort. English had been neglected, but at this point Touka wasn’t that fussed. It was the first time Ayato had passed every subject. It was the first time teachers had been forgiving of his work. It was the first time he’d put in effort.

When Touka started community college at the end of summer, she wasn’t sure what they’d do. She wanted to start a café, just like _Anteiku._ She wanted to help kids the exact same way she’d been helped.

And fuck it, maybe she wanted Kaneki to work for her. Maybe she wanted him to have the job he’d been taken away from before he could accept it. _Maybe_ she wanted to give him somewhere that he could come back to every day and be _happy. Maybe_ she wanted them to earn enough money to move out of where they were.

Except Kaneki had run off again, and not even Hide knew where he’d gone this time.

* * *

 

“Touka! Ayato!”

Ayato spun on heel, already angry from the voice. Fuck him. Fuck him, what was he—?

Kaneki slowed to a stop in front of them, panting slightly. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, taking off his glasses. “I was—well, Hinami called me and told me your results, so . . .”

There was a hand ruffling his hair, and it took Ayato a second to realise it was Kaneki’s.

“Congratulations, Ayato. You did really well.”

He didn’t know where Kaneki had gone. He didn’t know anything about him except the rumours that went around. Until recently, Kaneki had just been their household ghost, bringing in the money and washing up bloodied clothes. Until recently, he hadn’t heard Kaneki speak a sentence at a time.

He really, really hated the guy. He didn’t care about his approval at all. Even if Ayato had stooped to asking him for help, even if Kaneki had become a member of their little misfit family, even if he was all that, Ayato really, totally didn’t care about what Kaneki could say to him.

Shit, though.

It felt good to make them both proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said id post again before christmas so please accept this at 12:15AM, Christmas Day. I'm sorry I'm late.
> 
> It really is a mess, just like my christmas prep. I'm really sorry, but once you sit down to watch those positive movies you just sort of ... want them all to be happy. more stuff was meant to happen but ill change the order around. sorry.
> 
> Thank you all so so much for reading! I hope you all have a very safe and happy christmas!


	58. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stuff that happened while Kaneki was away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo last chapter was a mess SO
> 
> as you probably gleaned, Kaneki left on his little pilgrimage of Kanekiness and then reappears at the end to tell his son how good he did. This is what happened in between. next chapter will be a continuation of this. 
> 
> PS no proofreading we die like men trying to write papers on time

Left alone with his thoughts, Hide couldn’t stay still.

It appeared the things that he had to avoid thinking about was growing like a pile of dirty laundry. Discarded and ignored, brushed over as it kept growing and growing, and until someone came and told him that he wasn’t managing it, he would continue to ignore it.

That was why he decided to think long and hard on the other areas of his life.

The Owl. He had gleaned, somewhere along the way, that her name was Eto. Kaneki and the Kirishimas apparently knew her personally, which low-key terrified him, but Hide tried to think past that. He tried to think objectively. He tried to think _accurately._

The night of the raid, what had happened? Hide had been back up for most of it, only entering as it neared to a close. The Owl had not been spotted in combat. V had appeared and disappeared. Aogiri was a violent force that had burned and turned to ash, scattered over the grounds. The warehouse.

If the Owl had a plan, then at some point she must have set it into action, or at least manipulated someone correctly to do so. Either way, her fingerprints were in the mix, but Hide didn’t know where.

As Kaneki had been running, he’d been shot. Hide remembered the horror of watching the ribbon of blood fly out of his skull, splattering on the concrete below in a jarring, empty silence. He’d been shot from the front. That meant a building beyond the shipping yard had been the site of the gunman.

From memory, there was indeed a carpark on the other side. The police had set up a blockade in there. A few storeys high. Maybe ten, or fifteen. If someone were to stand on the top of that, then they could probably aim straight down the middle of the docks and hit Kaneki. The altitude hadn’t been that steep, Hide remembered.

But, there had been a shot from the top of the warehouse. It had shaken the steel and the beams had groaned under the weight, lights swinging. Someone had been on the roof. Someone had been controlling the entire thing from that position, and Hide was almost certain that it wasn’t the CCG.

It was the Owl, he decided. That was where she had been.

If she shot first, then had she tried to hit Kaneki? No. He had no evidence of a bullet fired into the ground.

Hide could almost feel the answer creeping up on him, so he grabbed a notebook from his desk and switched on the lamp, digging around for a pen.

He was shitty at drawing, but he could draw the basic shapes. He drew the warehouse at one end of the paper, then at the other he drew a taller building: the carpark. Near the smaller building was Kaneki, represented in a stick figure with a large K for a face.

If someone had been standing on the top of the car park, aiming, then the Owl may have been shooting at him.

But if they’d wanted Kaneki down, then they could have shot him later. They could have taken out some CCG too, while they were at it. Yet they hadn’t. Why?

The shot. That was the start. That was the trigger.

In a poetic sense, it was her way of saying she knew. The Owl knew everything he did about the Washuu, or at least had an overall understanding. By shooting at the gunman, however obviously not killing him, she had forced their hand into shooting Kaneki outside their time. In that distraction, she had planted the seeds. The bullets. Her bullets.

Nagachika Hideyoshi. Arima Kishou. Amon Kotarou. Suzuya Juuzou. Kaneki Ken.

Somehow, they were the ones she had chosen.

_If you want to find your friend, find V._

Well, he’d done that. So why hadn’t he found Seidou yet?

What more did she _want_ from him?

* * *

 

It was too hot for a jumper. Kaneki felt beads of sweat running down the lengths of his forearms, but nothing would make him take off the long-sleeved top and expose the scarred lengths of his skin. He’d been waiting there, simmering in the heat until he could feel the ends of his hairs curling, for nearly an hour and a half. After spending the last week tracking her down, she’d left him hanging.

He’d used up all of his contacts trying to find Kanou. Just the thought of him had made old wounds flare up, and Kaneki couldn’t even let his eyes close at the thought of Kanou using the same organs to read through a file about organic chemistry. It made him sick.

Chie Hori had stopped following him after his requests had abated. Tsukiyama hadn’t been tracking him either. All his old circles had turned to the newer conversations, such as the future of the city and where V was going.

Kaneki didn’t care at all about where the city was going.

“Oh, and who’s _this_?”

A short woman was standing before him. If the voice wasn’t a dead giveaway, the familiar face and smile were offensively obvious. Kaneki had only seen her in her civilian persona a handful of times, and it surprised him each time. A white dress, thin cardigan, shiny handbag with a thin strap slung over her shoulder. Thick glasses, like his own, and her hair pulled up in a messy bun.

Yoshimura Eto. Takatsuki Sen.

“Sasaki Haise, right?” her smile grew as her warmness faded. “What ever could I do for someone like you?”

“Can we talk?” Kaneki asked, but Eto wasn’t listening.

“Aren’t you cooking? It sure is hot, boy! Why are you wearing such a thick jumper?”

“Eto, can we talk?”

She pouted, shrugging. “ _Boys._ So impatient. Why don’t you take that thing off while I let you in, hmm?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Kaneki wasn’t sure when he’d gathered the ability to be sarcastic, but Eto smirked to herself as she unlocked the door to the office, disarming alarms, flicking on lights and air conditioning. She trotted further inside, and Kaneki closed the door behind him.

“Where’s your manager?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. There are no new manuscripts, so I get the place to myself.”

He watched her open some drawers and pull out some snacks before sitting down in what he supposed was some form of meeting booth, with low chairs and a table. “Have a seat, Kaneki.”

He sat. Eto started to snack on the crackers she had pulled out for herself. “So. What’s got your goat?”

“Kanou.” Simply saying his name made her face light up. “All my contacts have lost him. So I’ve come to you.”

“’All my contacts’. What, do you feel accomplished now? You only have, like, four.”

“Where is he, Eto?”

“ _Where is he, Eto?”_ she mocked, chuckling as she swallowed her biscuit. “You tell me, Kaneki. Where do you think he is?”

Kaneki bit his lip. He knew she would test his patience, but he _really_ didn’t have this kind of time. He could hear steps coming up behind him, an echo from a memory he had tried to bury but had clawed its way free from its grave, a presence approaching slowly without stop, any second ready to grab him with one hand and raise a scalpel with the other.

He didn’t have this kind of time.

“I’m not inclined to sell him out yet,” Eto pressed her lips together thinly. “It’s too early.”

_Too early?_

“Do you know where he is?”

“Join Aogiri, and I’ll give him to you.” Her careful jolliness was gone. She might as well have been holding a gun against him.

“I’ll let you paint the Tokyo red with his blood.”

* * *

 

Mutsuki struggled not to whisper aloud ‘let no one be in there’. His hand hovered above the door handle, shaking. The 20th ward office. He was being transferred, but the idea of meeting all these people he’d never met before terrified him. No one be there. No one be in there. Then he can leave a message and they can initiate the first contact instead of him. Be empty, be empty, be empty.

He held his breath, pushing the door open.

“Hello—” he turned and saw the person flying towards him just in time to yelp and step back, avoiding the impact.

“You’re new!” They were short, with wispy pale hair and a gleeful smile Mutsuki recognised. Suzuya Juuzou. “You’re the new one!”

“Give him some space, Juuzou.” A tall man appeared behind him, smiling kindly. Special Class Shinohara. “You’ll scare him.”

“Sorry!” Juuzou bowed exaggeratedly, skipping back into the office. “Akira!” Mutsuki heard him sing. “Amon!”

“We’re a bit of a ruckus,” Shinohara apologised. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rank Three.”

“L-Likewise.” Mutsuki returned his bow, before letting Shinohara usher him inside. “All of us are here except the part-timer. He’s at school right now. I believe you’ve met him—does Nagachika sound familiar?”

“Oh, yes!” Mutsuki grinned, relieved that he at least knew _someone_ here. “I was working on intel with him. He’s very skilled.”

“’Reckless’ is the word you’re looking for.” Mutsuki studied the blonde woman who had approached him. “Madou Akira. Let’s work well together, Mutsuki Tooru.”

Mutsuki wasn’t sure how well he’d remember anyone, and the last member approached him: as tall as Shinohara, albeit less densely-built than him. “Amon Kotarou. Nice to meet you.”

Roughly a thousand shy greetings later, Suzuya had claimed him as his best friend, and Amon set about explaining their jobs and cases.

Shinohara and Suzuya worked with Squad 13 a lot. He explained that Suzuya excelled at field work and Shinohara was also respected in the area. Their cases were thin, dealing with only skirmishes and disagreements because of the inactivity after the raid, but Mutsuki spied some open files on Akira’s desk, which looked thoroughly read-through and analysed. He guessed she thought he wouldn’t be able to read it at the distance they were at, but he spied the name _Seidou Takizawa._

“Hide is essentially our errand boy—well, he was, until he got promoted. I’m not sure if HQ has told you, but you’ve been assigned as his partner.”

_What?_

“No, they haven’t told me, I’m afraid.”

“Well, you are.” Amon’s sympathy didn’t linger very long. He must have been stressed, Mutsuki decided. “We have a background case of generally keeping track of Kaneki Ken, since he’s mostly in our ward, but we can’t do much else.”

The 20th ward as a lightyear away from the other sectors of the city, chasing after gangs and Aogiri. Mutsuki breathed a sigh of relief; at last, he could calm down. His co-workers were nice. He trusted Hide. It was also closer to his apartment and had most of the universities in it, which meant most of what they would deal with would be drunken run-ins on the streets at night.

It was good.

“I’m not sure what you can do, really, in the meantime, but . . .”

“Rank Three, want to come with me and get Hide from school?” Akira neatened the pile on her desk. “His class finishes now.”

“How do you know?”

“Perks of being an Investigator,” Akira smiled slyly. “I get to read every student’s time table.”

* * *

 

“Do you know where he is?” Hide had asked, leaning heavily into his phone while he went through the week’s worth of hasty notes.

_“No.”_ Touka’s voice was flat, and Hide wished he could see her face to try and figure out what was going on inside her head. It didn’t sound good. _“He does this sometimes. He . . . well, he seemed okay, right? It shouldn’t be too long before he comes back.”_

It shouldn’t surprise Hide that Kaneki was like that. They chatted for a bit, but the conversation was fruitless and died, so he hung up. As time went on, Hide’s suspicions of what Kaneki had been subjected to in his life grew more and more twisted. Every new discovery only made the world look bleaker.

Hide liked to think Kaneki wasn’t one to run off without reason, so he did what he did best: stare at the page until the answer leapt out at him.

_Mutsuki._

_“Not since he stopped going after Kanou.”_ Touka’s words came back to him, and Hide wrote the name down. Kanou, in hesitant katakana as he tried to place the name. Who exactly was ‘Kanou’?

He turned to the CCG database to find out, and saw that Kanou Akihiro was an ex-coroner that was fired for misconduct. Young. Bland-looking.

It was the only Kanou listed.

Had he heard the name before? Had he seen the man’s face? Hide tried to come at his profile like an outsider, and he saw nothing remotely interesting in it, other than the fact that he was fired fore misconduct.

But this man could very well be Kaneki’s _raison d’être._ His revenge.

It would have taken a scientist, and a scientist Kanou was.

_“The fucking CCG,”_ Kaneki had cursed. Hide distinctly remembered how betrayed it had sounded. The CCG were meant to be the _good_ guys, Hide knew. God, did he know. But the more he learnt, the less he believed in good guys and bad guys. The bad guys _were_ the good guys, and the bad guys were also the bad guys, and there was a bunch of good ones sprinkled into the mix.

Kaneki had forced himself to see the CCG as the bad guys, just as he had forced himself into the role of the bad guy.

Kaneki had to already know that Kanou was ex-CCG. Hide guessed that by the time he’d found out, he was already so deep in his trap he couldn’t change his way of thinking. Hell, maybe Kaneki was right. The CCG were not all bad people. The people he worked with were good guys.

But that may have been all of them.

According to his file, Kanou had been fired over twenty years ago. The young man in the photo would be middle-aged by now. He was fired before Hide was _born._ It would explain the vague profile.

Who could he talk to, that had been at the CCG for over twenty years? Who would know?

The meeting was tomorrow night. The meeting with Shinohara and Akira. Maybe they would know something better that he wouldn’t have to barter with Itori for.

It was getting late. If Hide had the self-discipline he so desperately needed, then he’d sign off and sleep.

He did neither.

* * *

 

Kaneki let the summer winds buffet his feet, swinging over the edge of an apartment block’s roof. He chewed the cigarette between his teeth, too jittery to light it.

Kanou had gone up in a puff of smoke, but it wouldn’t even matter if he was dead or not anymore; the CCG were continuing his line of work.

He bit down too hard. The stick broke, bending and slapping against his chin. Carelessly, he tossed it into the air where it would plummet forty storeys and hit the ground, or a car, or a pedestrian. Kaneki could not find it in himself to care.

His hands were shaking, and he didn’t know why. He couldn’t stop them.

The light was bleeding out of the sky, the vibrant spring blue turning anaemic and yellow as the day died. He was angry, Kaneki realised. He was bitterly angry and he felt it at the base of his skull, biting the skin between his teeth. His hands shook and his stomach knotted. God, he was so _angry._

Kaneki wondered why he hadn’t joined Aogiri back then. Maybe he should have. He’d been so set on solitude he hadn’t even considered it.

Maybe if he had, Kanou would be dead by now.

Last April, he’d been killing millionaires in the Restaurant for free. He’d done it because Tsukiyama was angry and vengeful and Kaneki had seen it and _agreed_ with it. Fuck. He’d been shoulder-deep in blood yet, only five months later, one guy at a party had changed that.

It was hard to believe he’d ever been anyone else. Until now, memories without Hide in them hadn’t crossed his mind. But now that he had kilometres between them, he couldn’t seem to think about anything _other_ than the empty space that had been there before. Sourly, he tried to imagine telling Hide this: that he’d killed thirty men and women for nothing. That he used to do jobs like that as a favour. That he used to sell himself into Tokyo’s inner circles just to get a scrap of information out of them. That for eighteen months, he was trapped underground and every last one of his friends had died until he was utterly alone. That he had gone insane alone, swimming in his own blood in an isolation cell.

He wanted to imagine Hide’s face, but he couldn’t.

It had taken him all day to realise he couldn’t bear to.

What if one day, Hide saw what he tried to cover up beneath his shirt? What if he saw every last shred of evidence. He’d be too kind. Kaneki imagined that there would only be disgust behind his eyes, but he wouldn’t show it. He’d be apologetic and caring and try to avoid looking at them, tell him his past didn’t define him or something positive or akin to that. It made Kaneki sick. He shouldn’t see it, ever. The only person who had seen most of it was Uta, out of pain-drunk necessity as his arm had started to rot from blood poisoning.

He didn’t remember Uta’s reaction at all.

Kanou was the cause of all this, wasn’t he? Because Kaneki was never _good enough,_ Asaoka had sold him. He’d been whisked away, ready to scream and cry and beg and die, and then Kanou had come. God, how he had arrived. An angel. A saviour. Hope.

A monster.

Just like he’d made Kaneki into.

But it didn’t stop there. Like the sickness that had claimed his friends, genetic therapy spread through the circulatory system of Tokyo’s streets and reached the CCG. Sixteen. A mirror image of himself. It would only be a matter of time because curiosity outweighed ethics. Only a matter of time before the humanity in a human died. Or before it was killed.

His phone buzzed again, but Kaneki didn’t look at it. It would be Hide, no doubt, telling him to get some rest or eat some food. It made Kaneki smile when he read them.

So he didn’t.

This time, he knew Hide would be safe. Tsukiyama watched over him at school. Suzuya watched him at work. Touka and Nishiki were around. No one could penetrate the web of protection Kaneki had formed, not this time.

Wind howled through the skyscrapers, groaning and whistling, and an instant later Kaneki felt it slam into him, threatening to push him off the ledge and plummet to another fatal fall. He could have laughed. How ironic it would be if now, before he’d accomplished anything, he actually died. How hilarious it would be if now that he had people to return to, he’d die.

It had been nearly two years since he’d promised himself to destroy the world in the snow, freezing cold, starving, fuelled only by his desperate, fading rage. _This world is wrong,_ he had told himself.

_This world is wrong._

The sky had faded to a bruise, staining the buildings purple with the sunset. In an hour, the brightest stars would peer through the light pollution and remind him that space, vast and infinite and utterly empty between galaxies, existed. Maybe all those worlds were wrong too, just like his one.

It was only later, when he’d met Touka and Ayato, that he’d entertained the idea of a better, concrete goal: kill Kanou, get the degree he’d dreamed of as a kid.

That was it. He remembered the smell of blood as he’d left the Restaurant, thinking to himself how in a few years, he’d climb to the top of Tokyo Tower, diploma in hand, and look at the view. Right from the top to the bottom. He’d let Tokyo beat him if Tokyo let him beat Kanou.

His phone buzzed again, vibrating in his pocket. Someone was calling him.

Would he have the strength to leave everyone behind, anymore?

Would he even die?

Would he have the strength to leave the warmth that had grown in that apartment? Would he be able to stand and walk away from their table, with Hinami chatting and Ayato listening, with Touka pouring coffee. Would he be able to leave Hide?

The next train must have arrived, carrying with it a flurry of students and salarymen who walked by beneath the building, the edges of their voices carrying up through empty air, blown to him by the spring wind.

His hands stopped shaking, but Kaneki knew why.

It would be so much easier to leave than to reveal the truth of his past.

No, Kaneki reasoned. It would be better.

His phone stopped buzzing, and Kaneki stood, jumping back down to the safety of the roof.

He had a man to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hELLO.
> 
> anyone here read the Days of Our Lives series? yeah. i read them both. my soul has left my body. 
> 
> Thank you all so so so much for reading yet another trashy chapter. Bless everybody that left a comment on the last chapters, I read all of them and they make me so happy. Thank you very much! I got some good questions on the last chapter which made me very happy ^^ (but also guilty because this story is a vague mess of emotions). 
> 
> also, you've probably realised, but i rely a lot on music to write. But guess what? I ain't got no more songs to get sad to. this is a real issue bro. Please, send me your suffering songs. Help a grill in need. I will be very thankful.
> 
> Rest in peace, Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds.


	59. Dark Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVERYBODY!!!!!! AND TO START IT OFF WELL I AM POSTING A CHAPTER YE
> 
> also thank you all so so much for your music recommendations! They really helped a bunch :D

Hide had scarcely seen a man look paler. Silence had fallen like a blanket, smothering the replies out of both Akira and Shinohara. He’d seen a similar look when he’d explained it to Akira in his haste, but now that he had all the time in the world to slowly walk them through it, the entirety of it seemed to bear down on the shoulders like Atlas holding up the sky.

“My parents died for this organisation,” Akira murmured. “I still can’t believe this.”

 _My mother owns it,_ Hide wanted to say. The words pressed against the back of his throat, making him want to throw them up. _They’re my family. I am related to these people._

“Does . . . does anyone else know this?” Shinohara’s voice was steadier than Hide expected.

“No.” Hide traced a pattern on the table with a fingertip. “I haven’t shared this information with anyone else.”

“Do the _Washuu_ know that you know?” His voice dropped as he said their name, and Hide almost smiled.

“They know,” he murmured, “but they don’t know how much.”

“ _Hide.”_ He could feel Akira’s glare drilling into his side, but Hide didn’t turn to her. “Did you even think before you told them?”

“I don’t have the luxury of not telling them.” Something in his voice changed, and it rang loud and clear in Hide’s ears: _Washuu._ He balked, swallowing hard. Yes, there had been a spark of annoyance when they doubted him, but it was natural, he told himself. It was _normal._ Stop losing your cool, Nagachika!

 _“You’re not a child anymore,”_ his mother would say. _“Control yourself.”_

Her intention had never bee quite this one, but Hide couldn’t think of anything other than that sharp tone she’d use on him.

“So, they have an inkling you’ve figured it out.” Shinohara’s gaze weighed heavy on him, and Hide swore he pieced together how frail a story was. Maybe it had been Hide’s voice. Maybe he already knew; he was a Special Class, after all. “But they let you carry on.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s bigger than us,” Shinohara finished for him. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the booth, the weight of his bulk making the cushion hiss. “Isn’t it?”

Hide met his eye as he answered. “It might be.”

“What are we going to do with this information, then?” Akira spoke up, and Hide envied the way she refused to get caught in the tide of their fatal conversation. “What’s our plan for dealing with this?”

 _“How_ do we deal with this, Akira?” Hide struggled to keep the frustration out of his voice, snagging his throat. “What can we do?”

“You already know,” Akira said with certainty. “I know you do.”

Hide didn’t. He didn’t have any plan at all. He had no _idea_ what he was going to do; that was why he had confronted these two. He’d hoped their age and wisdom would help, but it appeared the problem was so daunting neither of them could think of it either.

The Washuu were the problem. Them and their Officer system and rankings and the control they wielded. He hadn’t revealed to either of them yet that the Washuu was crippled by some form of disease he hadn’t discovered yet. He hadn’t told them that he was in far too deep with the gangs of Tokyo. He hadn’t told them that the Washuu had shown them a will that said if his mother was not present, her child, Hide, would own the CCG. His mother was playing them right now, and she’d left it for Hide to fix.

He didn’t even know where to start.

 _You already know._ Akira said it like it was easy, but she was wrong. The longer their gaze dragged on, the more he expected her faith to waver, but it didn’t.

Trust was frightening.

“I don’t know yet,” Hide admitted slowly, turning his eyes back to the table. “But there are some things I’d like to find out about and see where that takes us.”

“So you _do_ know.” Akira smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “What is it?”

“I don’t suppose either of you know an ex-CCG coroner called Kanou Akihiro?”

Akira sipped her drink pensively, and Shinohara picked at his cuticles.

“The name rings a bell,” Shinohara admitted, “but not very loudly. Can you give us any context?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to know him. He was fired over twenty years ago. Misconduct.”

“I think my father knew him,” Akira said slowly, considering the words on her tongue before she released them. “I heard the word—no, I remember him talking about it on the phone.” She scowled, tapping the table as she tried to remember the scene. “I think . . . my mother must have known him, I think. There was an operation a few years back, I remember my father saying his name on the phone.”

Shinohara gasped, and their eyes snapped to where he was, choking on his drink. “Kanou!” Hide watched as the man clapped a meaty hand on his chest, trying to clear his throat. “That operation—I was with your father. It was . . . it was just over two years ago, I think. October. An underground lab the CCG had busted. Officers only. Your father wanted to know about it, said he had a bad feeling. He called me up just before it started and told me that I should keep an eye out. He didn’t think it was as deserted as we were told it was.”

_Underground lab. Kanou._

His stomach had sunk past his feet, down into his seat and through the earth until it burned up in the magma of the earth’s core. His body was ice cold, because oh _God,_ did the dots connect now.

It was Kanou. _It was Kanou._

“Can you tell me about the operation, Shinohara?”

“It’s highly confidential, Hide. You wouldn’t want to hear about what we saw down there.”

“Shinohara,” Hide said slowly, hearing the unfamiliar ring of modulation in his voice, “none of what we are talking about here can be described as ‘confidential’ anymore.”

Annoyance, or something akin to it, flickered across Shinohara’s face as it became stony. “I don’t think it should be looked into, Hide, confidential or not.”

It must have been worse than Hide had thought.

“Then . . . did you find anyone?”

Shinohara shook his head, still nursing the wound neither of them could see. “No one was left.”

* * *

 

The heat was stagnant, heavy and poisonous as it refused to leave as night came. Another day of fruitless efforts. He just wanted answers, and no one in this entire city would give it to him.

His feet had started to walk him back to his apartment, so Kaneki turned left two streets early and came to the other side of the train tracks, stopping to inspect a vending machine to inspect the variety of canned coffee.

Kaneki guessed he’d eaten a few days ago. His stomach was tight with emptiness and he supposed that maybe some coffee would do. He had just enough to cover the cost, and he waited for the can to rattle to the bottom, bending to pick it up.

“Fancy seeing you here, _Kaneki_.”

Every nerve in his body screamed to turn around and aim a knife or a gun or _anything_ useful, but he tensed. Slowly, he stood, turning to face the man who had appeared behind him.

He was sitting on the posts that separated the track from the footpath, wearing a mix of vibrant colours and patterns on his clothes that looked alien to Kaneki. The last time he had seen him was in a hospital gown.

Suzuya Juuzou.

“Suzuya.” Kaneki levelled his gaze, popping the can open without looking away. If he did, he was sure he would be lunged at. “Hello.”

“I nearly stole your wallet,” Suzuya grinned widely. “I should have.”

“It’s empty,” Kaneki replied. “I’m sorry.”

Suzuya swung himself off the post, skipping towards him. Kaneki fought the urge to slink back into the vending machine, to appear small. Suzuya carried a shadow far larger than himself, and it took all of Kaneki’s remaining energy to stand and face it.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Suzuya smiled sweetly, then snickered to himself. “Makes sense.”

“You’ve changed.” Kaneki wasn’t sure what else he _could_ say. The haunted shadows he distinctly remembered in the hollows of Suzuya’s eyes were faded. His skittish energy, the one that had devoured his food in an instant at a table, the one that had laughed and giggled in the most unsettling of ways, was not here. Kaneki couldn’t see it, even if he knew Suzuya could summon it in an instant.

Suzuya laughed at this, tipping his head back and splaying his arms. For an instant, Kaneki watched him fall back until he used his hands to backflip back up to standing, a safe distance away from Kaneki.

“I’ve heard a lot.” Kaneki watched as he lifted a cigarette, one that he’d stolen from the carton in Kaneki’s pocket, and placed it between his teeth. “A _lot_.”

“You work for the CCG now.” Kaneki lifted the can to his lips, and for an instant he thought it was water until he tasted the coffee at the back of his throat, faint and distant.

“You kill people for money.” Suzuya tried to peel layers of material off the cigarette slowly, one by one. “Like I used to kill people for entertainment.”

 _Scrapper._ Kaneki remembered how he’d been bought from one of the Restaurant owners. Big Madame. He’d always assumed Suzuya had died, but now he realised Suzuya had probably been sold back to her. Suzuya slapped one of his knees, and Kaneki flinched at the sound of plastic. A prosthetic.

“They wouldn’t let me investigate,” Suzuya chuckled to himself. “They told me you killed _thirty_ of them. That’s amazing!”

No it wasn’t.

“Squad 13 likes to joke about you.” His hands, full of nervous energy, discarded the cigarette over his shoulder, now thoroughly torn up. “They call you ‘The Other Reaper’.”

It made sense.

“But you know, I’ve been wondering,” Suzuya leaned back on the fence. “Why do you like Hide so much? —Oh, and we called him ‘Tiger’ for a bit. It was really funny!”

“How do you know?” Kaneki wasn’t sure to be happy that his voice was so flat or disgusted.

“You came to help him, right? When his friends got killed.”

_“You’re going to be okay now.” The words felt false in his throat, falsified by his desperate hope and the warm cheek filling the palm of his hand. The rain washed away the blood, but the wound on his skull kept bleeding a macabre curtain of blood down his neck. He could hear police sirens, behind him, an ambulance, maybe, the CCG—everyone. In his panic he had dialled every number and ran as fast as he could._

_“There’s been a mugging,” he had said into the phone, turning away from the corpse of the gunman to Hide, slumped against the wall. “Three are dead. One boy is still alive. His name is Nagachika Hideyoshi, he works for the CCG. Please, send help. Send help.”_

_Send the help Kaneki couldn’t bring._

_“The CCG are here,” he told him instead, watching as Hide’s unfocused eyes flicked between his face and the hand he had pressed to his chest numbly. Something inside him was breaking apart, and Kaneki didn’t know if Hide could fix it. “They’ll take you to the hospital. No one else will hurt you, Hide. You’re okay.”_

_He prayed to the God that had never answered a single one of his prayers that yes, Hide would be okay._

“I did.”

“It was my first assignment!” Suzuya looked excited by the fact. “I was a trainee with Shinohara, and we were called in. Once Hide’s name was in the system the 20th ward came as well. I really didn't expect to see you there.”

His smile looked innocent and completely disarming. They were talking about a night where three people had died.

“Hide’s good.”

“Yeah, he is.” Kaneki didn’t want to become comfortable in Suzuya’s presence, but he had. He brought the coffee to his lips again, the aluminium cold against his skin but the liquid was soothing to his parched throat.

“Suzuya, could you protect him, while he works at the CCG?”

He wasn’t sure what he expected.

“Sure!”

* * *

 

A week later, and Hide still hadn’t let go of that operation Shinohara had told him about.

Both Suzuya _and_ Shinohara were giving him looks now, and Hide wasn’t sure what to make of it. Suzuya was more clingy than usual, lingering by his desk and questioning him about school, of all things. News came in of a new transfer, a trainee, around the same time as Hide’s promotion came in.

Shinohara congratulated him, but when the commotion died down Hide could tell he was being watched.

 _Don’t look into it,_ he had said. He had neglected to know that Hide was a professional at disregarding advice and disobeying orders.

He looked into it.

It had taken days to finally find something. He’d gone to the CCG archives during his free time and gone through each and every hard-copy report he could get his hands on about it, still turning up nothing. Stooping to a low, he’d ‘nicked’ Shinohara’s ID card to get into the restricted section and suddenly they were abundant.

He took Shinohara’s first. Then Arima’s. After getting more and more anxious by the second, he snatched another one under the name _Aura Kiyoko._

He wasn’t good at shoplifting. Files were not allowed to be stolen, but he’d taken the precaution of looking for any holes in the CCTV to stick them in the waistband of his pants, pulling his jacket tight around his middle to hold them up.

He’d held his breath the whole time, but it went off smoothly.

First hacking, now stealing. Did the Washuu even know what they were raising?

It was only once he started reading the files that he understood Shinohara’s insistence.

* * *

 

After twenty years, Kaneki was amazed nothing had ever compelled him to not wait for the crossing to turn green. It was amazing, he realised, that even when the thoughts had flown through his head, from Before and even After, he’d never actually walked into the traffic.

It would be useless to do it anymore, he knew, but he’d never considered it before.

There was aimless chatter all around him. Screens on the side of buildings played the news, drowning out the roar of the streets. It could have been soothing to be so miniscule in the larger part of something. It could have.

But it wasn’t.

Laugher rang through it, cutting through the hum like a knife.

Kaneki would be lying if he didn’t say time stopped, because it did. All he could hear was that familiar ring of laughter, and in that instant he focused on the familiar build, face, the dyed hair that had been done by himself, laughing as Hide had pouted. It had ended up with smiles and laughter and Kaneki had let himself forget that.

He was standing next to a larger man, Amon Kotarou, Kaneki realised. He looked younger, smiling amusedly beside Hide.

Hide, who didn’t know where Kaneki was.

Hide, who didn’t know he was watching him right now.

Hide, whom Kaneki was nothing without.

 _“Who’s more important, I wonder?”_ Furuta had sneered at him. At the time, Kaneki hadn’t known. He’d been a fool and all he knew was that Kanou was there, in his grasp, fully able to be killed while back in the city, Hide was in danger. He’d panicked. He’d made his mistakes by not choosing.

The weak did not get to have a choice, so Kaneki had made it. If he had not made that decision, Hide would be dead. If he had not chosen Hide, both Kanou _and_ Hide would be dead.

Kanou was not worth Hide dying. At the time, Kaneki hadn’t realised that. But he realised it now, watching from this distance.

Kaneki had made the right choice.

And it was a choice he had taken too lightly. He had thought he was wrong. He had let his past blind him. Hide had been there all along. Hide had suffered too. His friends had been killed before him, just like Kaneki’s. His friends had been taken. His parents were gone. Yet he had swept it all under the rug and been ready to go on.

Kaneki had chosen Hide.

He’d chosen Hide’s smile, Hide’s laugh, Hide’s presence. He’d chosen the way Hide would bury his face in a textbook and groan when he hated studying, he’d chosen Hide’s crude jokes whenever the lecturer misspoke, he’d chosen Hide, who had cooked him food. He’d chosen Hide, who still sent him messages to stay healthy even when he was gone.

He’d chosen Hide, who had made him realise that Touka and Ayato were not simply people he lived with.

He had someone to thank, and maybe it had taken this for him to realise it was Hide.

Powerless made him feel ill, but maybe . . .

The light turned to green and Kaneki let himself be swept up in the hoard of passing commuters. Hide moved away with his own companion.

No matter how much strength he had, he couldn’t do it. He could do neither; he could not utter a word about his past, but he didn’t think he could ever have enough resolve to leave them. Any of them.

He was too selfish for his own good.

But that selfishness had led him to Hide.

And, maybe, it would keep him with him.

* * *

 

His phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. Jitters rose in his hands, but Kaneki swallowed hard, lifting the phone out and telling himself _whoever it is, I’m answering it this time._

It was Hinami.

“H-Hinami!” he gasped into the phone. “Are you okay? Why are you—?”

 _“No! Stop! Go and find Touka and Ayato!”_ Oh, no. She was angry at him. Oh, _no._ “ _Go! They told me you’ve been gone for two weeks. Come_ on _, Kaneki!”_

“I’m sorry, Hinami. I . . . I just—”

 _“His report card just came in!”_ Kaneki felt his stomach sink in shame. He’d missed it. He hadn’t _been there._ “ _And Touka sent me the picture! You know he passed_ all _his subjects this year? Even maths, Kaneki!”_

Kaneki wanted to be proud, but all he could feel was guilt.

_“They went out to celebrate, so go find them. Before they get home.”_

“I can’t, Hinami, really, I’m not—”

“ _Kaneki.”_ The way she sighed _nii-chan_ with frustration really sent the guilt home. Kaneki _should_ have been there, and they all knew it. Except now . . . now he wasn’t sure how he _could_ face them. He was ashamed of how childish he had been. He couldn’t.

 _“They understand,”_ Hinami said instead. _“They understand you need to get out sometimes. So this time, remind them that they matter to you.”_ It sounded simple when she said it, full of sincerity. _“They miss you, you know?”_

The silence felt like Hinami was stealing every excuse he had out of him. Really, he had nothing to say at all.

 _“Go on!”_ he jumped, nearly dropping the phone in his surprise. _“What are you waiting for? Go!”_

“O-Okay. Bye, Hinami.”

“ _Call me later and tell me how it goes!”_

* * *

 

“Oi, Nishiki!” Hide leaned over to yell out his bedroom door. “You gonna get that?”

“You do it!” came the reply. Hide sighed, dragging himself out of bed. He was feeling unusually lazy, and he really didn’t want to answer it. Nishiki had probably ordered more take-away, and he’d have to fish out the money to pay for it _again._

He stretched, after spending the last two hours writing papers because at this stage, he had nothing else he could do. He’d decided somewhere along the way that balancing the computer on his chest while he looked at the screen from the pillow was a good idea, but now his neck was killing him and _boy_ did he regret it.

The doorbell rang again, tentatively. Hide almost entertained the idea that Kaneki was the one to come visit. Almost.

“Coming, coming!” The keys jingled in his hand as he looked for the right one. “One second, man!”

After the usual jiggling and wiggling, the key finally fit into the lock and Hide twisted, opening the heat-bloated door slowly. “I didn’t order anything, so—”

As soon as he glimpsed the head of white hair, the words died in his throat.

For a second, he wasn’t sure what to think. Kaneki looked the same, stunned by his appearance even though he must have heard him coming.

Kaneki was here.

 _Oh, God._ Kaneki was _here._

Kaneki looked like he was bracing himself for something, but the only thing Hide could do was stumble forward and hold onto him for dear life, as if any second he’d leave again.

“I’m sorry.” His breath was warm, his head pressed into his neck.

“I’m super mad.” He smelled like spring, warm and abundant, blown back to him finally with flower petals in the breeze. Hide felt like he could cry, he was so happy. “Really.”

“I know.” Hide felt his face shift in what was either a smile or a grimace. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention literally nothing in the last few chapters is in chronological order? I hope you guys could figure it out easy enough, but just i realised that is very cruel because its confusing as fuck so I wrote them out for you (please forgive me).
> 
> 1\. Chapter 58, Hide: figuring out the Owl and V  
> 2\. Chapter 58, Hide: researching Kanou  
> 3\. Chapter 59, Kaneki: talking to Suzuya  
> 4\. Chapter 59, Hide: The dinner chats with Shinohara and Akira  
> 5\. Chapter 58, Kaneki: when he does the Depress™  
> 6\. Chapter 57, Hide: Hide gets promoted to Rank 1  
> 7\. Chapter 57, Itori: when they do the creepy talk about Kaneki  
> 8\. Chapter 59, Hide: reading the lab operation files  
> 9\. Chapter 58, Kaneki: going to see Eto  
> 10\. Chapter 57, Mutsuki: reporting to Matsuri  
> 11\. Chapter 59, Kaneki waiting at the crossings  
> 12\. Chapter 58, Ayato: showing Touka his report  
> 13\. Chapter 59, Kaneki: when Hinami righteously bullies him  
> 14\. Chapter 58, Touka: celebrating with Ayato  
> 15\. Chapter 58, Ayato: when Dadneki appears  
> 16\. Chapter 59, Hide: Kaneki coming to his dorm  
> 17\. Chapter 58, Mutsuki: going to 20th ward office
> 
> yea. have fun.  
> the tags say "lots of making out" well ive been neglecting that lately so buckle up.
> 
> Thank you for your constant support! Really, thanks to everyone that reads this and enjoys it. You guys kept me going through 2016 and I hope we can have another happy year together :D
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! STAY SAFE AND WELL!


	60. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :'''''D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha lol remember when i said 'regular updates'?  
> me neither  
> uhhhhh yeah  
> pls forgive me

“Do you . . . do you want some coffee?” It wasn’t that things got awkward between them, it was simply that after the hugging and face-patting and pouting and grumbling and Hide’s repeated _‘totally angry’s_ that they ran out of things to say and do.

Kaneki would be lying if he didn’t feel smothered in guilt, but it felt breathable when Hide smiled at him. The air felt lighter, and forcing his lungs to expand and contract seemed easier.

But then those moments ended, Hide glanced away, following his rapid thoughts, and Kaneki would see the outlines of fatigue and stress written all over his face, in the movements he hadn’t yet been able to calm, in the way his shoulders had set tensely. His face looked gaunt from overwork, and Kaneki’s spontaneous departure—no, his cowardly _flee_ —would have only been another thing adding to it.

And now there they were, and the longer it dragged on the more Kaneki wished he had a better way of showing that it _had_ been stupid and it _had_ been entirely his own fault. But he didn’t. So he couldn’t.

“No, thank you.”

He could have made a joke about Hide’s terrible coffee if he didn’t feel so paralysed with guilt. In his head, the scenario went flawlessly, with Hide cracking a laugh and suddenly everything was better—but Kaneki knew that wasn’t how it was. He’d stammer and mumble and Hide wouldn’t get it or it wouldn’t be funny and in the end, it would last a moment and then they’d slink back into the awkwardness time had put between them.

No, the awkwardness _Kaneki_ had put between them.

“Not gonna lie, this is probably the most awkward we’ve ever been.” Hide said it with a smile, sitting down next to him at the table. He leaned on his hand tiredly, and if Kaneki wasn’t feeling so damn _guilty,_ he’d probably call his dopey smile cute, or maybe even be bold enough to kiss it.

The main issue here was that he was literally drowning in guilt. Just.

That was why he did neither of these things.

“I’m always this awkward.”

“ _Suuuure,_ ” Hide drawled, drawn out so long it turned into a yawn. “Sorry,” he said quickly, “I’ve been . . . working.”

Kaneki couldn’t help the warmth he felt as he realised Hide meant his end-of-term papers for literally every subject. He couldn’t help but find it _endearing._ In the wider scheme of things, he should really not be like that but if he was honest, it was the smallest of his problems.

Maybe he should have accepted the coffee anyways, because now he felt grossly bare and he had so little to offer. What had he expected? Tears? Blubbering that turned into kisses so dramatic the silver screen would sweat in embarrassment? Who was he kidding? He just had to _go,_ but now that he was here, he was starting to think maybe he shouldn’t have come.

If anything, he was just ruining things for Hide further. Hide could be working, like he said, he could be working hard and going places that did not involve the white-haired mess that was himself.

“Where have you been, then?” Even though Kaneki had conditioned himself to fear the question and all the anger it would inevitably bring, there was no anger in Hide’s voice. It was calm. It was smooth.

It was small talk.

Kaneki Ken, the guy he had once called ‘boyfriend’, disappears without warning for two weeks, doesn't offer any contact or indication that he’s doing all right, doesn’t let Hide into the majority of his life, then appears out of the blue and of course, Hide is a decent, normal human being who is polite enough to pose the questions—but Kaneki knew. He knew this was the second time he’d done this, and even if he’d come back with a better intention and he wasn’t as bad as he used to be, Hide probably knew, like Kaneki did, that he’d do it again.

Maybe not even Hide had the patience to deal with him. Kaneki sure didn’t.

“Just . . . wandering,” Kaneki mumbled, rubbing his knuckles nervously. “Around the outer wards. I . . . I saw a lot of my old, uh”— _contacts,_ he could say. _Colleagues. Ex-employers_ —“friends.”

“Nice,” Hide said. It was distant and small.

They could have been perfect strangers again.

Kaneki wondered, as he often did when he found himself in anything remotely tense, what it would have been like if he had never met Hide. Hide could, possibly, still have his two friends and pass his classes and wouldn’t have to worry about Kaneki. And maybe Kaneki would still be the way he used to be, but maybe it wouldn’t be too bad of a trade if he didn’t have to sit here, feeling like he was ripping them apart.

He was, wasn’t he? It was all him.

“I should . . .” the words died on his tongue. Hide wasn’t even looking at him, but Kaneki just _couldn’t_ say it. Simple words of, ‘ _I should go, you have work to do, just wanted to drop by’_ were not hard. But for him, they could have been the hardest thing in the world. Maybe he was Atlas, and he was carrying the weight of the world on his tongue.

He couldn’t.

“You don’t have to,” Hide murmured tiredly. “I mean, you _can_ —I get the very strong impression that wasn’t on your agenda when you came, though.”

Kaneki smiled, but it felt sour. He’d been completely exposed. “You got me.”

Why had they ended up like this?

He’d seen this too many times. He’d seen people fall apart before, but he had never thought he’d manage to ruin it for himself, too. He had, though, and Kaneki wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to weather it with dignity.

“But, y’know, I really should—”

“It’s okay.” Hide was always too kind to him. “I get it, Kaneki. I get that you have to leave sometimes, okay? It’s fine.”

Please, not this.

Hide’s eyes were painfully earnest, and Kaneki wanted to _die._ Hide _did_ get it, and he could see it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t see so much hurt too.

“I just wish you’d, like, talk to me more about it.”

Kaneki’s hands were shaking, painfully not numb. He almost wished he could suffer an onslaught of memories right then so that he could keel over and not have to deal with _this._ No, fuck that—he didn't _almost_ wish, he _wished._

Yet they didn’t come, and he was left staring at his hands, shaking on the table.

Losing Hide after giving up the chase for Kanou—that was exactly what should happen, wasn’t it? In the scheme of things, that was the only thing that fit in his sorry story of a life. He couldn’t even be mad. It was all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

_‘I’m sorry’_ wasn’t enough, and Kaneki had never felt it more keenly than now. Maybe, _‘I’m sorry, my head got screwed up and I need to leave to blow up somewhere else’,_ or even a _‘I’m sorry that I’m like this, but I need to in order to function like a normal human being to some extent.’_

‘I’m sorry’ didn’t make the cut. It was vague and brief and it was exactly what Hide had been dreading, he was sure.

That was why he tried.

He also failed, but Kaneki was too hasty to even think of that.

“I’m sorry I don't talk enough,” he said, too quickly and too nervously, catching Hide off-guard. “I know I need to, but I just . . . talking is hard.”

“Kaneki, I know—”

“And I know I should try harder, and that you deserve more but Hide, I _can’t_.”

His hands were shaking, gripping each other until his knuckles turned white. It wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough.

What _was_ enough? A blow-by-blow account of his shitty life? Should he write a memoir? At what point did the amount Hide deserved and a horror story start?

“I was looking for someone,” he said, and Kaneki surprised himself at how calm he sounded. Calm in that jerky, shocked way. “A doctor. I . . . I tried to find him.”

No matter how desperately he grasped for the anger that had sent him out looking for Kanou, it was lost. Buried beneath the sea of guilt. Lost in his last death.

“I knew I wasn’t going to find him unless I decided to look forever.” His hands clenched, and the anger that used to ignite within him as he traced the shape of his blood-black nails was nowhere to be found. He felt concave, the words ringing and echoing through his throat like he was a robot.

“So I came back. That’s . . . that’s why I left. I saw Mutsuki, and I know, I know that the way the CCG treats him is different, and I know they don’t strap him down and—” the words were coming too fast for him to catch, and his breath ran out. His vision tunnelled on his hands, too scared to meet Hide’s gaze.

“I was . . .” _scared._ Kaneki was scared. He was scared that there could be a Kanou mark 2, a Kanou that could still get him, a Kanou that would keep cropping up no matter how many times he killed him, just like Kaneki, just like Furuta, just like the twins and it _scared_ him. The idea that he would never be past what happened _scared_ him, and he’d never even let himself realise it.

But now he had.

And he was fucking terrified.

“This thing . . . the genetic therapy or whatever they call it—it can’t happen. Quinx can’t be allowed to exist, and I just . . . I ran away from it.”

The room plunged into silence, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the hum of A/C units outside. Even though the spring humidity was stifling, Kaneki felt chilled to the bone. He couldn’t tell if it was sweat on his palms or someone’s blood. Maybe he’d walked right out of the past, and he was still eighteen and covered in Jason’s blood and—

“I’m sorry I ran away like that.”

His heart hammered in his chest, blood rushing past his ears. He could be sick. Now that the air was stained with his words, he felt like the room was closing in on him. There was no more wooden table—it was a steel bench. The lights were not a warm yellow, but harsh white. The hum of the A/Cs was the distant groaning of pain.

He didn’t even realise when Hide pulled him into an embrace. He hadn’t even heard him coming.

“I’m sorry,” Hide murmured against his hair, warmth flooding through his skin. “I shouldn’t have made you say all that.”

There were fingers carding through his hair, cool and soothing, and Kaneki was sure part of him did die right then, because he buried his face into the familiar, nostalgic shape of Hide’s chest and clung on like a life raft.

And he breathed.

* * *

 

Trying to get Kaneki to fall asleep before him was a task Hide would never be able to complete.

“Papers” apparently was enough to get Kaneki to put a solid foot of distance between them, but no matter how many hours ticked by, Kaneki looked as wide and as alert as Hide wished he was without a _drop_ of caffeine in him.

Hide wasn’t sure how many episodes of _Sherlock_ he could sit through before he started to drift off. Something about _Jung’s_ hypothesis of human reactions was getting less and less exciting. As much as a paper about a case study seemed interesting, it was really meant to be done over the course of a week or two, not in six hours before the morning it was due.

So he’d been waiting for Kaneki to fall asleep so he could, at the cost of his pride, take a break long enough to stroke his hair and maybe trace the shapes of his face again and try and act like things weren’t _that_ awkward.

Except they were, and Kaneki did not sleep ever.

“When’s your class?” Kaneki said quietly, checking the time.

“Eleven.”

“You have . . . time.”

“Time,” Hide repeated, pressing his lips together. His sentence lay abandoned, lost halfway and now Hide had no idea what he was going to say. “That’s good, I have two more to write.”

“Oh.”

_“Oh.”_

They forged on into Season 3.

Hide finished his first paper.

Even as his fingers typed, manic and desperate on the keyboard to get everything in his head down on the page, he kept thinking about the words Kaneki had let slip. Something in Hide’s weak little heart had broken, because not only were the words terrible, it was the pain in his face as he said them.

His suspicions had been correct. Someone had forced this life onto Kaneki against his will. His friends had probably died, and due to the lack of data about anything or anyone similar, all of them were probably dead.

And the idea that it continued to happen scared Kaneki witless.

Immortality—there really was no other way of putting it—had cost Kaneki his life. And Hide wasn’t sure if the method of bestowing it would change that. In the faint, flickering light of Benedict Cumberbatch’s features from the screen, Hide could sometimes glance at the scars he normally missed, criss-crossing Kaneki’s hands, wrists, arms, neck, even some in his scalp.

Season 3 came and went, and Season 4 started.

Hide only just remembered that Nishio was in his own room, cramming for his exams.

It was a simple decision of ‘fuck it’.

Even though Nishio gave them shit, over the past two weeks Hide had begun to pick out that Nishio did, in the most obvious of ways, have too much respect for Kaneki.

It led Hide to believe that Kaneki had probably been his superior or something when he was still in the gang. Hell, who _wasn’t_ Kaneki a superior of, if he couldn’t die?

That was mean of him. He shouldn’t be like that.

Ten thousands words later, Season 4 was wrapping up, and Hide decided to not give a crap about his last paper, because regardless of whether he handed it in or not, Amon would roast him.

He should really respect him more.

“Kaneki, you’re a lit student,” Hide saved and opened the papers he’d written already. “Can you be an absolute _champion_ and proof these for me?”

“W-well, yeah,” Kaneki hesitantly took the laptop from him. “Uh, well, I’m not really _that_ good, but—”

Hide waved him off tiredly, legs shaking as he stood and stretched. “Let your literacy brain do the talking. I need a toilet break.”

So he tottled his sorry ass away before he could stop to appreciate Kaneki’s face too much and completely forget that he was not meant to instantaneously forgive him for disappearing for two weeks, because his weak-willed heart fucking _would,_ and everyone seemed to know it.

Except maybe Kaneki.

It definitely wasn’t, Hide reflected as he washed his hands, that he’d missed the feeling of Kaneki in his arms or the sound of his voice or that he’d not-so-subtly fantasied about Kaneki swinging in like fucking _Spiderman_ or something into his room, or that if Kaneki said ‘sorry, please forgive me’ one more time Hide _may_ buckle and kiss him, it was just that he’d completely done all of those things and he would most definitely buckle if he so much as stared at Kaneki’s face too long.

Hide resisted the urge to shove his fist in his mouth.

Every time Hide let his thoughts wander like that, he inevitably became saddened. Saddened because Kaneki’s world was so much darker than his own, and that unlike Hide, Kaneki didn’t have the chance to be able to shelve it and move on, no matter how hard he tried. Reminders were everywhere, in what he saw in himself and in others, and now the CCG was rubbing salt in the wound.

Hide understood why Kaneki had left. He understood why Kaneki had come back. And he _understood_ why Kaneki had such a hard time voicing it all.

Yet despite all his forced casualness, he couldn’t bring himself to say tat to Kaneki’s face.

Maybe Hide didn’t get it fully—he probably didn’t. He didn’t know the story, he didn’t know Kaneki’s mind, and he most certainly didn’t know Kaneki’s pain. In all honesty, Hide would be lying if he said that he completely _wanted_ to.

But he wanted Kaneki to know that he was there for him, and being a desperate, maybe slightly hormonal asshole wasn’t the way to do that.

Like, at all.

It was what it was, though, so Hide readied himself for internal battle and went right back out there to see the conclusion of Season 4 and an extremely lost Kaneki.

“Um, it was good,” he said quickly, from what I saw, anyway.”

It took two very long seconds for Hide to realise that Kaneki had never used a laptop before.

A shred of Nagachika Hideyoshi fell out of his soul and died.

As much as he wanted to say ‘cute’, he also wanted to beat himself up for not realising it.

And because he was a fucking _fool,_ he sat down and decided to not care. “Thank you, Kaneki!” he beamed. “Sorry, I should have told you how the trackpad works.”

Kaneki returned it with a half-shrug, and Hide vaguely realised the ending tune of the show playing.

“Um, so, what’s the verdict on sleep at . . .” Hide squinted to read the time at the top of the screen. “6AM?”

All things considered, he’d get a decent 4 hours of sleep.

“Sounds good.” Kaneki’s voice was far too quiet and unsure in the exact same way Hide’s was too forced and casual. He closed his laptop and resisted the urge to toss it. He switched off the television, standing and stretching again even though he’d stretched a moment ago, and left it on the cushion.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

“You can stay if you want,” Hide jumped in, nearly physically jumping in front of him as well. “I mean, only if you want to.”

It was very clear that he wanted to, and they both knew it. The only issue was that Kaneki was probably the most stubborn person to ever walk the earth and wouldn’t let himself stay, and Hide was only picking up that bad habit and not saying ‘please don’t leave’ like he wanted to.

It was with bitterness that Hide realised it wouldn’t be fair to either of them if he said that. He couldn’t.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he followed Kaneki to the door, where they paused awkwardly again, and it was like neither of them could really believe they were going to part ways again. Two sweltering, spring weeks of space between them, all of the time Hide had spent wishing Kaneki would come back, and now he was watching him leave again.

“You _can_ stay if you want,” he tried again, too tentative and too soft to be himself, and it wasn’t the fatigue talking. It was him. It was all him.

Kaneki didn’t meet his eyes, shuffling slowly to try and get his shoes on. Hide watched him chew on his lips in anguish.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said instead, in that smooth Kaneki voice that Hide knew wasn’t sincere.

Hide was very, very weak. That was why he caught Kaneki’s arm before he could turn away.

“Please stay.”

Unfair. Unfair. _Unfair._

Kaneki’s arm tensed in his hand, too slim and too malnourished and too used to overwork, before Kaneki finally turned back.

Hide knew they were the same age. They were around the same height and similar build, yet Kaneki had always seemed so different and elusive, as if he was from another world—so much so that he often forgot how similar they really were on a physical level.

That was why it was such a shock to see him look so distraught.

_Unfair._

Hide was always the one to give in, to rush forward and gather him up and he _knew_ it wouldn’t get them anywhere. He knew it was coddling and too gentle and he knew it wasn’t fair. He was desperate to do just that, he felt it bubbling in his nerves, but he was rooted to the spot.

The moment stretched on and on.

“Can I hug you?” Kaneki whispered uncertainly, staring at his feet. “Please?”

There wasn’t really any good way to answer it except nod very enthusiastically.

Hide knew it was unfair. He was literally cheating himself and he was very, extremely, totally bitter about it.

Kaneki walked into his arms, and Hide tried his best not to sigh at the sensation. Maybe this wasn’t for the best. Maybe he should have let Kaneki have more space and try and patch it up at school, or maybe he should have outright said that they had to address these problems, or _anything_ mature and smart.

But right then, he couldn’t stop himself.

Even if it didn’t feel the same, even if it was different and slightly foreign and both parties didn’t exactly melt into each other the same way anymore, Hide had missed it. He missed the way Kaneki’s hands gripped at his shoulders, the way his head nestled into the crook of his neck, the way his hair felt beneath his cheek.

In the end, they were both dumb, he decided.

He didn’t have it in him to let Kaneki go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally gonna be a smut chapter but you know what? 2 months later i decided i didnt have the heart so made it angsty instead
> 
> i feel like that sums me up pretty accurately
> 
> anyways, the next chapter should DEFINITELY not take as long.
> 
> i love u all thank you so much the constant kudos and messages this shitfest kept getting made me keep trying and trying and we finally got here. thank you so much and i hope i can get back in the swing of things so i can pay you all back. stay safe and i love you all TT^TT


	61. Six Weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves awkwardly*  
> wow i dont even remember when i updated last  
> uh  
> pls enjoy its just fluff

_He smiled. Kaneki heard the sound of his lips, stretching wetly across his teeth. Blood stained his chin, dripping onto the white of his collar until it was dyed ruby red._

_Was it Koma’s, or Irimi’s?_

_They lay at his feet, arcs of blood cascading onto the whitewashed walls beside them. Staining the grout between the tiles. The air was thick with the scent of it, heavy and metallic._

_This was it. This was what death felt like._

_“Where are you going?” He stepped forward, the hems of his pants red and splattered. His feet splashed like puddles in the rain. Puddles of blood, Kaneki told himself numbly, puddles of blood._

_God, why couldn’t he die too?_

_“Kill me.”_

_Yamori grinned wider. Kaneki almost looked over to see who had spoken, but he stopped himself. It was him. It was him._

_Please, end this._

_“Where are you going . . . Kaneki?”_

_“Please, kill me,” Kaneki whispered. He couldn’t feel his lips move around the words. He couldn’t feel his tongue in his mouth or his throat or his soul. All he could feel was their blood, searing hot against the skin of his face, sticking his clothes down with the stains of it._

_“Are you trying to escape?”_

_Was he crying? Was he shaking? Kaneki didn’t know. He didn’t know, god_ fucking hell _he didn’t know. Irimi . . . would she get up? Please, hold him again. Stroke his hair. Tell him how much better he was. Please._

_Why wouldn’t Jason_ fucking _kill him?_

_Why wouldn’t Koma roll over, grinning, and yell ‘PSYCH!’ Why? What was taking him so long? He was the Devil Ape, right? So why was he so still, lying face-down in a puddle of blood as it spread and began to reach Kaneki’s bare toes._

_Why wasn’t he dead, too?_

_“Yes,” Kaneki said, and distantly, he realised his voice broke. Was he going to cry? “I was trying to escape. Punish me. With death.”_

_Please, end it now. He was tired. He knew, God, did he know already he was never going to get out of here. He’d known from the start, but he’d hoped. He’d hoped and hoped and he’d climbed into clarity with that_ fucking _hope, and now it was pooling at his feet, and he couldn’t even realise it had fallen so fast._

_Jason stepped forward, until they were barely apart. Kaneki didn’t even move. Was his defiance offensive? Would he kill him? Please, what was everyone_ waiting for _?_

_He didn’t care if he couldn’t live with them anymore. Let him die with them! Fuck it all!_

_“Kill me,” Kaneki said again, and this close to Jason’s huge form, he knew it was his own voice in the room. He knew he’d said it. It was all he could say. “Kill me kill me kill me kill me.”_

_He head it again. The sound of Jason’s lips stretching across his teeth. The saliva slicking them back, like he was hungry with the thought of it._

_They were dead. They were dead, good God, they were dead. Was this a dream? Surely, the sweeping dread and fear and despair flowing through him was something dreamlike and defying modern-day. Surely. Surely. Surely._

_It wasn’t a dream._

_It wasn’t a dream, Jesus Christ. Why couldn’t he just get killed too?_

_“Death is not the right punishment for you.”_

* * *

 

Bile rushed to the back of his throat, its familiar torrent strong enough to rouse him and make him disentangle himself from the warmth of the couch. It blurred from his watery vision, and the burn in his throat hurried him to the bathroom, leaving him just enough time to lock the door and keel over the toilet, retching up useless stomach acid.

He could still hear the sound of wet lips pulling taut against teeth, echoing in the empty tunnel. The memory brought a fresh wave of retching and gasping, and Kaneki hung his head in the bowl.

How pitiful. Really.

He stayed there for a moment longer, waiting out the dry-retching until his stomach settled, spitting stray salvia and flushing. Let it disappear into the sewerage.

He scrubbed at his hands in the sink until they were red raw. Maybe it was a form of catharsis, throwing up like that. A vomit a memory.

He’d be vomiting an awfully long time, then.

But it wasn’t always like that. It used to be fits of screaming in the night, or waking up as stiff as a board, flooded with terror so blinding and intense yet lacking any source, holding him in a vice grip until the spell passed. It didn’t matter where he was: he was on his back, in a bed, and there was a closed door separating him from what was outside.

How had things become like this?

Over time he had learned to conceal it: wake up seconds before screaming, biting own on a hand to hold it back, or running to the bathroom in the night. Paralysis passed, and he’d hide under the covers to make sure no one else in the apartment heard his ragged breathing.

He switched off the tap, staring at the drain for a moment before looking up into the mirror. His face was still pale from throwing up, his eyes reddened and bloodshot, the usual shadows beneath them worse than usual. He prodded at his cheek slowly, unsure of what to make of it. He hadn’t eaten properly in too long, and it was clear. He used to rely on Touka’s use of colour contour to hide the hollowness, but . . . now there was no escaping it. One kilo more, and he’d look like a walking skeleton.

Maybe that was fitting.

This—looking like this, feeling like this, _existing_ like this—because it couldn’t be called ‘living’ anymore—this was what he had escaped for. This was what he had killed Yamori for. This is what Koma and Irimi had died in the process of. Hundreds of people, and he had survived instead. This is what he had survived for.

God, how bitter it made him.

A tragicomedy, he’d call his life. Tragic in events but so goddamn hilarious.

He should brush his teeth. Really. He could still taste the acid on the back of his tongue, and he was eager to be rid of it. The two toothbrushes were unnamed, though. Wouldn’t it be rude to use Hide’s? Nishio’s, well, he didn’t really care what Nishio thought of him, in all honesty.

But what if he picked Hide’s by mistake?

No. He should just not bother. He reached for the door, but paused. Everyone would smell the vomit on his breath. Everyone would know. He’d ruin the entire flat with it. Hide wouldn’t want to be in the same room with him, and—oh God, one day back and he already wanted to run away again.

Maybe they had a stash of clean toothbrushes? Yeah, right—logical. Very. Hesitantly, Kaneki turned back to the sink, crouching to peer through the cupboard. Despite the array of toiletries, he found no new toothbrushes.

Oh, God.

Maybe he should just stay in there. There was a window—he wasn’t small enough to fit through, but if he let himself waste away for a day or two he could definitely fit through, but . . . during that time, he’d have to deal with everyone coming to the door in a panic and probably begging him to stop being Like ThisTM.

He turned on the tap again, wetting his hands and pressing them against his face. He had to calm down. This was a perfectly common situation, and even though he’d never read a novel where this was such a major dilemma, there had to be _some_ sort of shared trauma of being stuck in a bathroom, needing to brush your teeth but given only the choice of the toothbrush of the guy you liked _very_ much, and his roommate who you didn’t care for, but there was no way of knowing whose was whose and _what if_ he picked the wrong one?

Could he even make the choice?

Both toothbrushes were nondescript. Plain, white and blue, in cups with toothpaste. One cup had a brush and a razor, the other holding a small tooth-floss dispenser.

Who was who? Nishio was probably more organised than Hide, so it made sense for him to have the razor and hairbrush, but then why didn’t he have the floss as well? If Hide had only the floss, _why_ didn’t he have other things? Moreover, what if it was a cycle of constant poaching of toiletries from the other’s cup, and there was no way of knowing anymore who had what, because maybe the razor had been Nishio’s originally, but Hide had taken it, Nishio had taken it back, then Hide had taken it again and—

Kaneki considered jamming a fist into his mouth. Screaming sounded like a great idea, but at the same time he was too afraid of seeing so unhinged about a simple decision of _how should I deal with throwing up?_

Fuck it. Just pick any.

Or maybe it was the other one.

He tried closing his eyes and choosing, but he already knew which he’d go to, so he’d go to the other, but what if he was wrong _both_ times? What if one of them was Kimi’s? What if Hide didn’t—okay, no, Hide was hygienic and didn’t do that. He was definitely someone who brushed his teeth twice a day and made sure they didn’t rot behind his lips.

Would Hide care? Argh, what if he was a stickler for clean, minty breath? Kaneki bit back a groan, gripping at his hair. Fuck. He should just grab one— _but what if he grabbed Hide’s and Hide really didn’t want to share a toothbrush and it was the catalyst for the disaster Kaneki would inevitably bring them?_

Okay, he decided. He’d fast for a few days and escape through the window—fuck it, maybe he’d just chop off an arm and do it now. Fuck it all.

Soft knocks on the door made him jump. The room had become so small and stifling with his own anxiety he hadn’t even heard the sound of movement outside.

“Yo, Kaneki?” Oh, shit. It was Hide.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I realised there weren’t any toothbrushes for you. We still have a few unopened in the cupboard. If you open the door, I’ll give you one.”

He’d locked the _goddamn door._

_FUCK._

If he opened the door now, would the smell of bile and despair come flooding out? Oh, God, it _so_ would. Fuck.

He bit down on his lip hard, steeling himself. Slowly, he lowered the latch to the lock and inched the door open, peering out at Hide’s face.

Oh, Jesus. He really loved Hide’s face. He really did, and it made him feel all the more pathetic for lingering in the room that long. What did he look like? He searched Hide’s face, but for a moment, they held the look of dumb blankness.

Hide smiled, holding out the toothbrush. “You could’ve just used mine, if you needed. I figured you’d be too polite to, though.”

This was probably the most passive-aggressive blessing he’d ever gotten from a higher power, but he’d be fucking _damned_ if he didn’t take it.

“Thank you.” A cheap toothbrush. From the store. It didn’t occur to Kaneki once to excuse himself and go buy one. “Um . . .”

Hide heard him throw up.

Hide had woken up after Kaneki ran off.

Hide had probably felt betrayed by that whole display.

“If you ever need to, like, use a toothbrush again . . .” Hide leaned past him, pointing towards the cup with the razor and hairbrush. “That one’s mine. I’m not a big germ guy. Use it whenever, okay?”

Hide was always too kind to him. Kaneki stared back at the toothbrush in his hand. “Thanks, Hide.”

“No problem at all.”

* * *

 

“Can you what?” Hide’s lips quivered, anxious to stretch into a smile but also scared he’d scare Kaneki off if he was too enthusiastic and also if he was wrong and he made the entire thing more awkward than it needed to be.

“I, uh . . .” Kaneki’s face was growing pinker by the second. “No, don’t worry. Sorry , I’ll just—”

“No—no no nono _no.”_ Hide sat up, grabbing Kaneki’s before he could draw away. “Yes! Yes, of course you can. I didn’t hear what you said properly but I’m about three hundred per cent sure. Sorry.”

He gave Kaneki’s face a once-over as he spoke; the pinkness didn’t fade, and Hide wasn’t sure if he’d helped at all, but . . . maybe.

“I was going to ask if we could, uh . . .” Kaneki chewed on his lip, dropping his head in shame. “Go back to, uh, I guess . . .”

Ah.

Hide had been right.

“What synonym would you like?” Hide swung their hands idly. “Hug? Sleep? Cuddle? _Spoon_?”

“They’re not synonyms.”

“They could be.”

Kaneki glared at him for as long as he could, before eventually he snickered and started laughing. Hide pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around his waist and wrestling him back down onto the couch.

It was fun. It was easy. It was light.

And _God,_ did he breathe a sigh of relief.

It took a lot of shuffling and ungraceful movements for them to finally get comfortable, and even if his elbow was still being crushed under his ribs, Hide didn’t _really_ care.

Kaneki smiled shyly, face close enough to kiss, still pink and damp from when he had washed it. Hide ran his hair through the fingers of his free hand. Kaneki didn’t meet his eye, but Hide saw the smallest of smiles.

“I also don’t care if you don’t brush your teeth,” Hide added. “Y’know, just in case.”

He saw Kaneki opening his mouth in that distinct ‘sorry’ shape, and for a split second Hide wasn’t sure what to do to stop him. Speak more? He was getting sick of his own voice, like he was sure Kaneki was, too. Use his hand, currently in Kaneki’s hair and _really_ enjoying itself?

_Fuck it._

Hide didn’t even realise he’d had the self-control until he broke it. It was an easy distance to cover, just a bend of the neck until their lips met, and he heard Kaneki’s delicious gasp but no one pulled away. It felt so easy, like breathing.

“I really hope you don’t mind morning breath either, wow. I can’t believe I forgot to say that.”

Kaneki laughed, a proper laugh that made Hide ring inside like a tuning rod.

“I can’t tell at all,” he smiled, catching Hide’s lips again.

* * *

 

“I just want you to know that was the most vanilla bullshit I have ever seen in my whole life.” Nishio was grumbling, mixing sugar packets into his coffee.

“So, how many tests do you have today?”

“Don’t avoid my spiel, Trashika.” Nishio jabbed the spoon at him, flinging a droplet of over-sweetened coffee his way. “Use a bedroom, you exhibitionists.”

Hide glanced across at Kaneki, who was trying (and failing) to hide his flaming cheeks behind the rim of his mug. It was probably his third cup, just so he could avoid meeting their eyes.

“I’ll have you know, I am hella into Disney,” Hide said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You were gonna turn him into your frog prince, all right, if you didn’t stop slobbering all over him.”

Hide fought back the hot lick of embarrassment rising up before Nishio’s half-smirk half-grimace. He could unload all the horror stories from him and Kimi, but he doubted it would make it any better. God, the shriek Kaneki had made when Nishio first walked out, staring right at them with his dead-inside gaze would haunt his dreams for weeks. He’d have anxiety about it, probably, for _ages._

“And you, Kaneki,” Nishio zeroed in on poor Kaneki now, using that lethal spoon pointer as a weapon of shame. “ _You_ should have known better. You’re the experienced one, here.”

Kaneki was unperturbed by what Nishio said until it finally hit him, and Hide watched him choke on his coffee.

“ _What?”_

Nishio’s gaze flitted between them curiously. Hide was . . . well, he’d assumed . . . oh, Jesus, now Nishio was looking at him with the utmost pity oh _God why?_

“I see how it is.” Nishio placed down his spoon in surrender. “I see.”

“Are you sure? You have glasses.”

Nishio gave him a tight-lipped smile, before standing quickly. “Wow, look at this great, spring morning—think of all the study I could do in the _library._ Wow. Amazing. Seize the day. I’m leaving. Do _not_ ”—he fixed them both in an icy stare—“get my couch dirty.”

Hide saluted, pulling a face. Nishio tried his best to put his best ‘senpai’ foot forward, but he ended up not holding their eyes and instead cleaning himself up and leaving. The instant he was out the door, Kaneki pressed his head into the table and groaned loudly.

“I can’t _believe_ —”

Hide laughed, unsure of what else to do, really. It wasn’t the _worst_ thing to happen to them in the history of _ever,_ but it could be up there. Just maybe.

And they still had, like, six hours until class, and Nishio had just exiled himself for the rest of that time.

The real challenge was if they’d make it past the couch, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope it wasnt too underwhelming haha
> 
> Take care, hope you're all well (if anyone still reads this) and I hope to get another chapter out. Chapter 62 is already in the works but I didn't realise just how much time it takes up nowadays.
> 
> Bai~


	62. Moondust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suh my dUDES
> 
> yeah sorry back at it again with the irregular uploads sorry pls be kind
> 
> have some more fluff. There's so little angst in this I feel unfulfilled. I hope that's ticking all your boxes.

Mutsuki sighed, brushing the clammy hair off his face. Opposite him, Akira didn’t look much better. Spring was inching closer to summer with every passing day, and the humidity was stifling. Students on other tables had brought fans to blow their hair back, and Mutsuki couldn't help but feel un _bearably_ jealous.

He checked the time again. 6:03PM. Hide’s lecture finished half an hour ago, but for whatever reason, he seemed to just . . . not be there.

He sighed again, sipping at the saccharine drink slowly. It was melting already, the whipped cream liquefied and crumpled, condensation cold to the touch yet lukewarm to taste. He wanted to press it to his face, sigh into its touch but he knew, he _knew,_ Akira would sit there and stare at him like he was a creep.

“Punctuality has never really been his strong point, I guess,” Akira uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “But what is he _doing?”_

Mutsuki offered the polite, silent headshake she expected, then looking past her down the centre drive of the university.

Even though Mutsuki knew already he’d never come here as a student, he couldn't help but long for it. Students, it seemed, were always surrounded by friends. Some gathered on the grass, sitting under trees, sharing lunchboxes or coffees and revising together. They came here, to campus cafés, laughing and complaining, and even though he hadn’t gone to the library yet, Mutsuki was sure it would be full of studious young adults.

He was yearning, but he knew it was already lost. These kids were bright, fresh out of high schools with outstanding grades or from private highs where their parents paid through the roof for the best resources. Mutsuki had never been to high school. The CCG had never raised him with the intention of him being an academic. Basic mathematics, reading and writing were scattered around class after class of combat training, of forensics, of teamwork-building exercises.

They were trained to be Investigators from the get-go, and Mutsuki wasn’t sure whether he hated that, yet.

“You know, Mutsuki,” Akira said, catching his attention from where it had drifted, staring into his drink. “You’re very quiet.”

“Uh . . . thank you?”

Akira smiled. “If you see that as a compliment. I know you and Hide have worked together before, but can you tell me about yourself?”

“M-me?” Mutsuki swallowed. The entire day, he’d been dreading this conversation, but in his thoughts he’d forgotten the script he’d made and mentally edited, drafted, and made as friendly as possible. He tried to catch the words flying in his head, but he couldn’t.

“I, uh, well—”

“When did you come to the CCG?” Akira said quickly, noting his discomfort. “A child?”

“I was . . . I think I was twelve,” Mutsuki said slowly, skimming over the vague memories. His heart drummed in his chest violently, and he gripped his knee for support. “There was . . . my family, they . . . they died.” How? An accident? A murder? He tried to force away the sudden nervous energy. He always got like this when he brought it up. He toyed with the hem of his shirt, breathing deeply.

“Sorry, if it’s hard, you can stop.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” He twisted the baggy fabric of his pants in his hands roughly. “I just, well, I was taught in the Academy, like most kids. And last year we all sat the Quinx aptitude test, and now I’m here.”

“Oh, yeah—there’s that other member of the Quinx too, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, Shirazu.” Slowly, Mutsuki let his hands loosen, easing the blood back into his clenched hands. “The CCG has us living together.”

“Do you mind telling me about you two?” Akira watched him eagerly. “Like, the Quinx side of things.”

“Quinx?” Mutsuki pressed his lips together. “I mean, it’s not like it changes a lot, so . . .”

“You get injections every three weeks, right?” Mutsuki nodded. “And, well, most injuries would heal? I mean, I know that there are _some_ that just won’t, and all, but they do?”

“Well, Shirazu got stabbed in the neck at the Docks Operation,” Mustuki shrugged. “And he was fine.”

“And you?”

“Ah, well . . .” Mutsuki scratched at his hair. “I guess my progress is slower than Shirazu’s.”

“It’s still amazing.”

Mutsuki smiled, wondering whether he should tell her how the injections made him sick, about how he always seemed to be smelling blood, about how his hair grew faster, and that he could see further and Shirazu could hear better, or that sometimes Shirazu came back from gutter work, shivering and cold because his circulation had abandoned his hands and feet in favour of patching up his scabs.

But he didn’t.

He could still remember the iron in Kaneki’s eyes as he repeated, over and over again, to let no one hurt him.

Nobody had to, he wanted to say. He was hurting himself.

To Akira, it was ‘amazing’. From a scientific point, it was. It certainly was.

From Mutsuki’s point, it was not. Not even for the compensation.

“Oh, is that him?” Akira stood, looking over Mutsuki’s shoulder. “It’s Hide. Come on, let’s go.”

Mutsuki hurried behind at her heels, scanning the crowd until his eyes settled on Hide. Messy-haired, scarf-wearing Hide in the heat.

But once his eyes slid to the boy at his side, Mutsuki nearly stopped.

Kaneki Ken was staring right at him, behind glasses and beanie, wide-eyed in shock.

* * *

 

Hide tugged on the scarf. “This is definitely sus.”

Kaneki made something between a grimace and a pitying smile. “Yeah, a little.”

“ _Ugh_.” Hide elbowed him in the side, which eventually dissolved into wrestling and a lot of slapping the back of Kaneki’s neck. “Why don’t you have any? _Ugggghhhh.”_

“It’s karma.”

“Look, I went for a quantity approach, I admit,” Hide stepped back, pressing his palm to his heart in the most honest way he could without cracking up. “But you certainly went for quality.”

Kaneki looked _almost_ apologetic for a second, before smiling, clearly proud of himself. Hide groaned, adjusting the scarf. It hadn’t been the ‘plan’ to wear one around in the stifling heat, but after taking one look at his throat in the bathroom mirror and remembering he had work that night, Hide wasn’t mentally prepared to face all of them at once with the darkest hickies he’d ever fucking _seen_ on his own neck. How was it not swollen? They were nearly fucking _black._ That’s not to say he didn’t totally appreciate the gesture, but he could already foresee everything that would happen.

He could see Amon’s embarrassment, Akira’s incessant laughter, Suzuya’s teasing and Shinohara’s Ultimate Dad Response. Honestly, how was he meant to go into work with any form of seriousness?

“I’m _so_ getting you back for this.”

Kaneki went marginally pinker, looking away. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Don’t get too excited, now.”

“Don’t you have work to go to?”

“Yeah, in like . . . fifteen minutes.” Hide stared at the numbers unblinkingly, slowly realising that 17:59 and he was expected to clock in at 6:30.

“Oh, shit!” Hide shook Kaneki’s arm, still staring at his watch. “I have work in fifteen minutes and I am _not ready!_ Fuck!”

“What’re they gonna do, fire you?” Kaneki raised an eyebrow. “I thought they couldn’t.”

“Oh, what’s this? Kaneki _wants_ me to be late?”

Kaneki smiled impishly, and Hide was sure his stomach fell out of his ass or something. Work could fucking _wait_ for this. He stopped dead, reaching out for Kaneki’s face.

“You’re so fucking cute I think I just died a little,” Hide made a show of shaking his hands reverently, cupping Kaneki’s face. Hide deliberately didn’t look at his neck in its perfect shade of Not A Single Hickey. Kaneki _was_ cute, maddeningly so. It was the kind of cute that made Hide want to wrap him in blankets and see him with sweater paws. Kaneki turned steadily pinker, batting his hands away.

“O Dark Kaneki, show me the cute again.”

Kaneki walked faster, Hide jogging to keep up. “Come on, please? I’ll shout you coffee.”

“Is that a bribe?”

“It might be.”

Kaneki thought about it for a minute before slowing down.

He smiled so sweetly Hide was _this_ close to shedding tears.

“I’m never doing this again,” Kaneki warned, and held up a peace sign for a single fleeting second.

He only jumped when he heard the sound of Hide’s phone camera.

“You didn’t.”

Hide clicked his phone off before Kaneki could grab it and delete it. “Hide, oh my God—you didn’t—”

“It’s my new background.”

“Don’t you dare—”

Hide mimicked his pose from earlier, holding up a peace sign. “I would never kid.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m gonna make it my facebook dp.”

“ _Ughh.”_

“Send it to my parents.”

_“Ugh?”_

“Engrave it to put on my dog’s collar.”

“Hide, what even?”

“I’ll make it a watermark to use for my thesis.”

Kaneki looked stupefied beyond horrified at this point, so Hide gave him a pat on the back. “I have to make it count,” he confessed. “Otherwise I’ll get withdraws.”

Hide watched Kaneki’s wince relax into a smile, and it warmed Hide’s heart. “Are we even now?”

“I promise not to show it to anyone,” Hide swore solemnly, saluting him. “Home screen only. No lock screen.”

“I guess it’s okay . . .”

“I’m saving that one for your ass.”

“ _Hide!”_ Kaneki cried, glowing like a beacon.

Hide laughed, and Kaneki grew redder as he realised it hadn’t _entirely_ been a joke.

“I hate you.”

“Excuse you,” Hide winced, massaging the stitch growing in his side, “most people have aesthetics as their lock screen backgrounds.”

“You’ve never even _seen_ it.”

“Hit me up whenever.”

“Oh my God.” Kaneki groaned into his hands. Hide smiled, patting his shoulder lightly.

“Now we’re even.”

Kaneki shot him a glare. If looks could kill, Hide would be in a thousand pieces with that particular addition. Kaneki softened eventually, falling into step beside him.

Akira was waving at him in the distance. It took Hide a moment to pick apart her shape from the background, and a second longer to identify the person beside her as Mutsuki.

Oh, dear.

“You know, the human body can only survive three days with unquenched thirst.”

“ _Savage,”_ Hide replied, but it was muted. There were no roads turning off from here. Not for nearly a hundred metres. Unless Kaneki wanted to make the awkward as fuck trek backwards that would _surely_ arouse Akira’s suspicions, there was no way out of it.

“Hey, Kaneki,” Hide murmured, “you good?”

“Haise,” he corrected.

* * *

 

“Mutsuki! How are you?” Hide was as bubbly as always, grinning ear to ear. Mutsuki half-entertained the idea that he was about to be tackled into a hug, but Hide stopped just short, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re in 20th ward now, right?”

“Y-Yeah, I got assigned.” But his eyes never left Kaneki’s face.

It was him. The same smaller stature, and beneath his beanie the slightest hint of white bangs across his forehead. Large, dark classes divided up his face, and it nearly convinced Mutsuki. If it weren’t for the grey eyes staring him unto death, he might have believed it was someone else.

But it wasn’t.

“Who’s the friend?” Akira asked, regarding them coolly. Mutsuki didn’t know if it was because of the suspicious scarf Hide wore or the fact she too could tell it was Kaneki. She had to, right?

“Sasaki Haise,” Kaneki supplied, bowing politely. “I’m in Hide’s Creative Writing class.”

“Sasaki, huh?” Akira gave him a visual scan. Her eyes lingered on his face. “I’ve heard of you before. Have we met?”

Kaneki didn’t flinch under her analysis. He smiled politely, and opened his mouth to answer.

“You might’ve seen him around,” Hide interjected. “He came to the office once.”

Hide was . . . helping him?

“Once? When?” Akira crossed her arms. She didn’t buy it. Was she always this protective of Hide? Mutsuki jammed his hands in his pockets, trying to stop their shaking. Even in the heat, he felt something cold trickle down his spine.

“Months ago,” ‘Sasaki’ answered. “Back in the winter.”

Lies. Lies. _Lies._

God, what did this mean? Kaneki Ken was— _is—_ dangerous. Mutsuki knew that if he gave them away, Kaneki would not hesitate. He knew in his bones, which is why his heart leapt to his throat every time Kaneki’s gaze turned his way.

This was why Hide was so calm that night, Mutsuki realised. He knew. _He knew._

Mutsuki felt like he’d been backhanded.

The air was too thick, too humid, and it beared down on him like a tonne of bricks. If he breathed too suddenly, would Akira notice? Why hadn’t she glanced his way yet? Don’t let her look at him. Mutsuki was sure his face had turned white and sweat had pasted his baby hairs down to his skin. If he spoke, he was sure his lips would tremble and loosely throw out incoherent noises.

The headache struck him out of nowhere, pain lancing up his temples and forehead. He swayed, bringing a hand to his head, trying to massage it away. God, were his legs always this weak? His knees shook. Any second, he could keel over. Maybe that would be the best idea—that would get them away effectively, right? But then how would he talk that off? He didn’t care. Falling over seemed like a great idea, so he let his weight tilt off and off—

Kaneki caught his arm. “Hey, are you okay? Mutsuki, right?”

Mutsuki jumped, nearly jerking his arm away but Kaneki’s grip was too strong. Everything froze up in him like body lock. His voice was full of concern, but he didn’t see a _shred_ of that on Kaneki’s face. Even behind his glasses, behind his guise, behind that fake smile, Mutsuki saw _death._

“Y-yeah, sorry, just the heat.” Mutsuki laughed it off, tugging at his collar with his free hand. “Long day. I’m fine, sorry.” _Let go let go let go of me, please._

Kaneki must have seen how uncomfortable he was, because he loosened the grip slightly. “Are you sure? Maybe you should head inside, or get a drink?”

The question had been posed with the trained integrity of a liar. Mutsuki swallowed hard, nodding quickly. It sent spikes of pain around his head, but he didn’t care. He knew what Kaneki was trying to say.

_LEAVE._

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Hide asked him, taking his shoulder instead. Kaneki released him instantly, and Mutsuki felt a weight lift off his spine. “Sorry, I’m running late. It’s my fault. Let’s get Mutsuki back to some AC. See you later, Haise!”

“Yeah. It was nice meeting you two.” He gave them each a glance before bowing as Hide ushered them off, muttering something about Mutsuki needing cool air.

Mutsuki could feel Kaneki’s eyes on them the entire time.

* * *

 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Hide returned with another glass of ice water, pressing it into Mutsuki’s hands. “The AC is nice, right?”

“Yes, thank you.” Mutsuki felt embarrassed by the entire affair that had gone on once they’d returned. Hide had opened the opposite window and blasted the AC, sitting Mutsuki in the middle in the nicest chair he could find (Amon’s, with a full back and cushions) and constantly serving him cold water. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Good,” Hide smiled. “Then stay here and enjoy it a little more. I have to finish printing out shit for Akira.” Hide winced at this so dramatically Mutsuki had to laugh. The leftover adrenaline was still bubbling in him, but it was cooling. They’d escaped it. Akira hadn’t really had her suspicions piqued so Mutsuki let himself relax.

A little.

He could hear the printer going from where he sat, so he got up and excused himself to the bathroom. It felt easier to sit on a toilet seat and sigh into his hands. In some weird, fucked up way, having the three walls of the cubicle around him made him feel safer.

Did Hide know Kaneki, or did Kaneki know Hide? Which way did it go? Who should he be more afraid of? He couldn’t help but trust Hide, but it made his insides churn thinking about whether or not he _should._

Kaneki Ken was, as so many people suspected, living a civilian life. He was one of the most recognisable names in the office and yet he was _right under their nose._ All it took was a beanie, a fashion change, and some glasses? That was _fucked._ Any second, he could walk right into the public part of the ward office and just— and just—

Mutsuki sighed into his hands, shaking as he exhaled. If he broke it down, it seemed like Kaneki wanted to live his life as Haise rather than do anything. He would fight tooth and claw to keep it, but realistically, logically—whatever mode of thinking—he couldn’t do anything drastic. That could have been why reports of his activity had been dropping off.

How long had he been doing this? How long had ‘Sasaki Haise’ been a student? Was that a made up identity, or had he stolen someone else’s?

Would he find Mutsuki and put an end to him now? Had he crossed some unspoken boundary Kaneki had placed between them from before? He didn’t know, _god._

He stood suddenly, realising how suspicious it would be to spend so long in a bathroom. He flushed for good measure, even though he’d just sat on the seat. The mirror made him look pale and feverish, even worse than he felt. Maybe if he looked bad enough he could take sick leave and lock himself in his dorm so Kaneki couldn’t find him.

Oh _God_ —what about Shirazu? He was involved with Mutsuki, too! He—

The door swung open as Hide walked in, seeing Mutsuki with surprise. “Oh. Hey.”

“H-hey.” Mutsuki swallowed, turning back to washing his hands. The action was so mechanical he’d been scrubbing at them for far too long.

“The printer jammed. Ink’s everywhere,” Hide said with a laugh, going to the sink beside him. Ink was all over his fingers, staining the water blue as he washed it.

He was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room the splashing of water against the sink.

“Please don’t get too freaked out by Kaneki,” Hide said quietly. “He won’t hurt you.”

Mutsuki’s hands fell still beneath the stream of water. What should he do, play it off? Hide knew. Hide knew he’d realised and he was telling him.

But before he could speak anymore, the quiet seriousness was gone and Hide grinned. “So relax, okay? There’s no need to worry.”

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Mutsuki didn’t even get to tell him his scarf was falling off.

He dried off his hands, following him out but stopping when he saw Akira and the newly-arrived Suzuya trying to pry the scarf off.

Mutsuki smiled, finally releasing the anxiety in his gut.

It would be okay.

. . . right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOO Thanks for reading !!!~~~
> 
> idrk when the next chapter's gonna be up but I'm working on it right now. Soon, maybe?
> 
> The angst starts back up again sorry guys.
> 
> Thank you all again for your unwavering support (I can't believe you guys still read this trash thank u so much i love u) and I hope you're all safe and well and happy!


	63. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey whoa its me  
> idk the anon made me open my doc and well  
> inspiration came and offered me tea
> 
> i hope u enjoy this haha. its kinda,,, Edge™

“Kaneki Ken,” Amon said into the mic. “Do you admit to hiding behind the false identity of Sasaki Haise for the last year?”

The light was harsh, reflecting off Kaneki’s white hair. Amon swallowed his discomfort. Questioning usually wasn’t this intense. Usually, they didn’t have to strap someone down in a cell _before_ asking them questions. But Kaneki Ken was simply too dangerous to leave free. But there was something else.

Sasaki Haise had, apparently, been a nice kid. A good student. He knew he should feel angry, that Kaneki Ken had stolen a dead kid’s identity for himself, but there was something wrong about this. Sasaki Haise had, also, been Hide’s friend.

Amon swallowed hard, staring at Kaneki’s bowed figure in the seat. Kaneki Ken, in all the time he had seen him, had been manic, a little too strong, a little too unbridled. He’d pulled himself up, hollowed out in the middle to keep fighting. Or to run. Amon wasn’t sure what to make of the Kaneki Ken before him—and there was no doubt it was him. He’d never expected to see Kaneki look so defeated.

“Did you befriend Nagachika Hideyoshi to find out about the CCG?”

No response. Not even a twitch.

“Why have you bee attending Kamii university?”

Amon knew there was no way Kaneki would answer. He had already lost everything. Amon doubted he was even being listened to, but the questions kept coming.

“Why are you so quiet? Don’t you have any fight left?”

“What were you hoping to achieve, going to university?”

“Where’s the Kaneki that fought me? Why are you so _defeated_?”

“You made Hide your friend. Why? What on _earth_ were you hoping to achieve?”

And through it all, he got not a single response.

* * *

 

**One Week Earlier**

“Oh my God, how can you not love this movie?” Hide groaned, shoving Kaneki over on the couch. “I love _Interstellar!_ Get your heathen ass out of here.”

Kaneki snickered, obviously attempting to look apologetic and failing. “I’m just saying! It seems a little . . . over-done.”

“It’s a story about love that traverses time and space! Get the fuck out.”

“Like I said, over-done.”

“People die.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe it’s better than I admit.”

Hide grumbled, shuffling around on Nishiki’s couch so Kaneki was thoroughly squashed beneath him. Not that he’d ever voice it aloud, because that was _super gay_ and it was before midnight, but Kaneki’s abs were probably better than his pillow. Not that he’d tell him that, of course, partly because that would make them less magical and also because of Hide’s low-key inferiority complex.

But like, nice.

“Why does it take major character death for you to admit a story is good?”

“Maybe I genuinely think story only has decent depth _if_ there is some expression of grief. Or at least some sort of poetic rendition of said death.”

“I love it when you speak in words I can understand.” Hide shuffled around again, turning to face the television. Kaneki’s fingers carded through his hair, hesitant, still unfamiliar with the display of affection but he was getting there, slowly but surely, speaking more and smiling more openly, even if it was just to Hide. Things were better. And with any luck, they’d stay better.

The admission felt a little to tentative to voice, so Hide kept it to himself. Just for now.

The movie started slowly, a long introduction scene of dust and voice-overs that made it seem as if it were a documentary, not some father-daughter film disguised science-fiction. Hide had seen it once before, and the details were fuzzy, but he remembered it clearly enough to recommend it. Disney films were a thing of the past, for now. The week had been long and tiring and he wasn’t sure either of them had the energy to hype up each other to belt out the lyrics.

There was a lot of crying in the film. A lot of orchestral swells. Nishio wasn’t staying over tonight, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way. If anything, Hide was behind on sleep and lying on top of Kaneki was the most relaxing thing of the whole week. Enough muscle to have no hard edges. Soft clothes.

The humidity had died down over the last few days, sea winds washing away the stewing heat. Enough to make Hide snuggle onto Kaneki’s front.

“I am very awake,” Hide murmured, watching the actor bum around in space. “I assure you.”

“I believe you,” Kaneki said, not looking away from the screen. “You’d never sleep in the middle of a film, would you?”

“Never, Nekkers,” Hide mumbled, already accepting the sleep that came.

* * *

 

_Complex contained remnants of corpses. Roughly between six months and a half. Further investigation needed._

_Evidence of a controlled environment. Contains kitchen and cafeteria area. Three levels uncovered; upper two contain cell blocks, lower two contains what appears to be experimentation rooms with surgical equipment._

_Many investigators were excused. Assistant Special Class Shinohara reported a locked door on the lower floor. Had foul smell. Believed to contain a further chamber leading further below ground._

_32 bodies counted._

_Evidence of crematorium._

* * *

 

“All right, Hide,” Amon said, flicking through a questionnaire booklet. “Here’s a question.”

“Got it.”

“Satou reports an incident. In his report he has a witness, Hyorin. Hyorin does not report another witness, but another unnamed witness also testifies to the incident. Who is the culprit?”

“Satou.”

“Okay. Explain why.”

Hide raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that. I know it’s right. Satou went to report an incident of his own making. Hyorin is not involved in the incident at all, goaded into work by Satou. The unnamed witness is the only one who saw what happened, thus they had no connection to Hyorin.”

“Full marks,” Amon murmured, slightly awed. “Looking at it now, it’s simple.”

“They always are, Amon,” Hide grinned. “That one was _exceptionally_ easy, I’ll tell you. Can’t you do those FBI quizzes anymore? They’re fun.”

“Huh. Whatever.” Amon tosses the booklet aside, throwing himself back on his chair. “How’s your, uh, project coming along?”

“Same old, same old,” Hide waved him off. “No real advances.”

“All right,” Amon said. If he saw the sudden falling of Hide’s face, he said nothing. Hide thought too much about the report Shinohara had left him, last night. Thought too much about the implications of what they found there. Thought too much about Kaneki and that sealed room downstairs.

* * *

 

It was the kind of day for good things. The kind of day where Kaneki woke up, feeling a little heavy and tired, but when he sat up it felt like some atmospheric weight had left the inside of his skull. Like he felt lighter under his skin. The light was golden and clear and the morning was just a little crisp, already turning humid instead of hot.

It was a good day.

Touka was asleep on the table, head pillowed on her hands. The mug of coffee she made at some point in the night is deathly cold, so Kaneki set about making her a new one, and though it felt like overkill, he hummed a small tune. He checked over his shoulder habitually there were no witnesses to this gross positivity, and then placed Touka’s new coffee on the table, rolling up a jumper to slip under her head as well.

The air was fresh and still cool, just enough to fight away the overbearing heat, and Kaneki felt, dare he say it, _happy._

Nothing dramatic, just something nice. Something at ease inside him. Like there was room for energy, room for ponderings. Just a little bit of him left free to think about things like Hide, about what movie they should watch next, about what they’re going to do in the Summer break.

Kaneki was half-afraid of jinxing it, so he tried to downplay it as much as he could. Being gloomy just didn’t come so easily, that morning.

Chemical engineering was his first lecture of the day. Hide was free until their Creative Writing tutorial at 1PM, but the other woke up early to periodically send Kaneki happy emojis and emoticons.

_Do you like octopus?_ Hide texted him, and the response, _I can’t taste anything_ sat heavy on the tip of Kaneki’s tongue, but instead he went with, _yeah :)._

It was, Kaneki decided, when Hide came to find him with two bento boxes and endless stories to talk about of everything and nothing in between, a good day.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Akira asked, idle at her desk. Hide knew she had too much energy. “What’s your friend’s name, again? Sasaki?”

“Sasaki Haise, yeah.” Hide grinned, but something already felt wrong in the air. “Why’d you ask? Is he that charming?”

“Please,” Akira scoffed. “You think I can’t see your big fat gay crush on him?”

To say Hide chocked on his water is an understatement. Akira laughed about it for hours.

So, whatever. So, he was a little too obvious. So, Akira was interested in his life.

Whatever, Hide thought to himself. Kaneki just sent him an “xD” emojji instead of a “:D” one. Little winnings were worth so much.

* * *

 

Hide knew already the ‘underground base’ Shinohara was involved in was so directly related to Kaneki. There was no way around it. Kaneki’s eighteen-month disappearance fit into the apparent operational time of the base. Kaneki was probably one of the people trapped there.

Thinking about exactly what happened to people in there, buried under ground and concrete and factory workings, made Hide sick to the stomach. He knew he should think differently, be aware that he couldn’t change the past—but looking at Kaneki now, timid and shy but growing outwards every day, smiling more and laughing even in public—looking at Kaneki now, it made Hide realise how much had been taken from Kaneki.

He felt responsible. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he did.

_“ . . . Assistant Special Class Shinohara reported a locked door on the lower floor. Had foul smell. Believed to contain a further chamber leading further below ground.”_

Hide could taste blood and bile and a lot of fear on the back of his tongue, but he already knew. There was something down there and, though a stretch, it may just have been Kaneki.

* * *

 

Akira didn’t want to admit it. For the first time in her life, she was considering turning a blind eye. Live and let live, and all that.

Because Sasaki Haise wasn’t Sasaki Haise. She recognised the name, having heard it twice or so from Hide—but the face was new. The face was _off._ Too round, too alive, too dark around the eyes. Maybe it was the white hair, too.

On the university database, the student ID photo for Sasaki Haise was wrong. Or maybe it was right, and the Sasaki Haise, friend of Hide, was the one that was wrong. The longer Akira thought about it, the more likely it seemed. There was no argument, really, but she couldn’t help but think of Hide’s bright red ears after affirming his feelings, after realising Haise was so dear to him. Haise seemed like a good kid. Hell, he was probably a great kid.

But the fact of the matter was that he was stealing someone’s identity. Sure, they didn’t look that different, but that wasn’t the _point._

A quick search of Sasaki Haise’s whereabouts lead to a report filed a few years ago of a body found washed up in a river. A dead boy, around twenty years of age. Never identified, no one really came forward to name him—and, hell, he was probably involved in the drug scene too, his entire identity wiped and sold to someone. Someone like this Haise at Kamii, now.

Akira cross-referenced the faces, of course. She found an undeniable match.

It was late afternoon, really, when it all turned sour. The room was hot and the A/C kicked it a few hours ago, Amon running off to the gym to do weights or whatever guys that big do, where the A/C works and whatnot. With Hide at school and Seidou missing, well . . . the office felt kind of lonely.

But Akira could deal with lonely. She wasn’t that weak.

It was just unfortunate that she liked to busy herself when she felt bad. Liked to dive into something; stay occupied.

If Sasaki Haise wasn’t _really_ Sasaki Haise, then who was he?

Akira didn’t have a picture of the guy. Hide didn’t have any pictures of him either, on his social media, except for his profile picture. For whatever reason, the quality was terrible, and it was hard to see clearly. But it was clearly his friend, the not-Sasaki, making a peace sign.

Maybe his phone camera was bad. Hide _was_ clumsy.

She tried to sharpen it as best she could, and even sent it off to the photo department for it to be cleared up. It took hours, and in that time Akira _searched,_ only to come up with nothing.

In Tokyo, everyone has a story. Everyone is on the Internet. They have jobs they need to get, need to prove their identities, need to have some record that will be here, untouchable.

In Tokyo, if you don’t have a story, you have something to hide.

And if Sasaki Haise wasn’t suspicious already, Akira couldn’t deny it.

In person, Sasaki seemed friendly enough. Timid, withdrawn, a little, but something was definitely intense about him, buried under his beanie and hidden behind his thick glasses. Akira suspected it may have been the scarf around Hide’s neck, obviously concealing love bites—but it was more than that. The boy showed no skin, she could recall. Only his hands and his face. His shirt was buttoned up to the throat. If she concentrated, leaning back on her chair, tossing off her shoes, Akira could almost _feel_ the make-up he had on. Concealer. Foundation. Maybe some neutral-tone eye shadow. Something to cover up his skin and something to change the planes of his face.

There wasn’t much unusual about a man wearing make-up. But Haise wasn’t _ugly,_ nor did the rest of his attire reflect a need to appear perfect. His jumper was ratty and dirty, the knees of his jeans scuffed (Akira tried not to think about why)—the make-up didn’t fit the vibe she had of him.

And, so what if he just _wanted_ to wear make-up.

But he was living under a false name, had no social media, _and_ wore make-up and conservative clothing. What other answer was there, than that he was hiding something?

The results came back from the lab. The photo was vague, but clearer. One of them even removed Haise’s glasses.

It wasn’t that Akira’s heart sank. Nothing of the sort.

But staring out of that smiling, peace-signing photo, was a face she stared at all the time, in drawings, in computer renderings, in shaky security-camera footage. She knew those eyes. She knew that hair.

The smiling boy in the photo was Kaneki Ken.

How was she ever going to tell Hide?

* * *

 

It felt too good to be true, that week. Like a dream. Friday morning, sitting in a Creative Writing lecture, neither of them working—it felt just a little too surreal. A little too . . . perfect.

Hide should have seen it coming.

It was Mutsuki that Hide saw first: standing shy in the doorway, wringing his hands together anxiously. Just one piece of a terrible puzzle, clicking into place.

Then, it was Akira, walking to their lecturer, taking him aside for a moment.

And then it was Amon, walking up to Hide, but his eyes were on Kaneki, hands shaking, and God, Hide _knew._

“Hello,” Akira said into the microphone, deadly polite. “Please don’t let us interrupt you too much. We’re simply taking a suspect, Sasaki Haise, into custody. Thank you for your patience.”

It was a ploy. Hide knew instantly. To have every eye on Kaneki, force him to play their hand. Kaneki’s face was painfully stony, painfully empty, whatever brightness and colour the past few days, past few weeks had breathed into it suddenly good. Ripped out.

He passed his wrists Amon wordlessly, and Hide thought, numbly, like another version of him, watching on—he thought that Amon looked dreadfully angry about it all, hands shaking, struggling to clip the handcuffs.

“Hide,” Mutsuki whispered, frail and weak, “you should come, too.”

Hide, for once, couldn’t decide whether to stay with Kaneki or let him go. What one has more pride? What one is kinder to Kaneki? To him?

What happens, after this?

“Okay,” Hide said. “I’m coming.”

He thought he may have made the wrong choice, really. Kaneki’s head dropped further, shoulders slumping, the struggle sapped out of him, and Hide watched as Amon escorted him away.

* * *

 

The silence was palpable in their CCG van.

Hide hadn’t spoken for the entire trip to Cochlea. Kaneki, restrained in the holding cell, hadn’t spoken a word nor made a sound either. With every bump in the road, the buckles of Kaneki’s book bag rattled against the seats. Hide packed up for both of them.

He really, really, wasn’t sure what to do about this.

Mutsuki looked guilty and so did Akira, chewing her lip anxiously. Only Amon’s hands were steady on the wheel, gripping so tight the knuckles turn white. Hide let the city wash on by.

Akira sat him down at Cochlea, because Hide knew it was no use trying to save Kaneki from here. Whatever gentleness Akira and Amon had given him was ripped away in a second. Handcuffs replaced with something heavy, darker, locking up Kaneki’s arms from his elbows to his wrists. A tazer wrapped around his ankle. A rough “ _do as you’re ordered_ ” from the warden.

Kaneki looked how Hide felt. He wished they’d look at each other, but Kaneki moved off like he’d done it before, taken down the rabbit hole underground, again, where they would lock him up and question him, maybe even torture him, _again,_ and there was nothing—would never be anything—that Hide could do.

Akira looked ready to apologise, and Hide knew why.

But, _God,_ it wasn’t meant to be like _this._

* * *

 

“Kaneki Ken,” Amon tried again, voice wavering with fatigue. “Do you confirm your identity?”

Amon wasn’t sure what he expected, maybe a snide response, a display of anger—but Kaneki is motionless, limp in his hold, and Amon felt something strangled in himself, muscles ready to explode. Kaneki wasn’t like _this._ Kaneki was strong and violent and volatile, passionate and ugly and so, _so angry._

This Kaneki was empty.

“I would have thought you’d have more to say,” Amon announced into the speaker, but not even that had a response.

Kaneki Ken, the one who brought him so much anguish, is just _this._

* * *

 

Across the city, Hide raised his torch to the overgrown entrance to an underground facility, buried under a factory.

* * *

 

In his apartment, Mutsuki cried into his hands. Shirazu sat on the other side of his bedroom door, saying calming things as best he could, but nothing changes.

Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone remember whats happenin in this story LOL
> 
> thank u so much for being patient w me ^^ i aint making any promises on updating but i rly do wanna finish this for u all. idk maybe it wont be as Much™ as i had planned. this is kinda the final arc of the story i guess; a final discovery of kaneki and the ccg n shit.
> 
> also heck hide's been back in the manga for so long my bOI
> 
> i hope uve all done well over the time this story has been idle :D thank u so much for still reading and i am so indebt to all of u <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me on [tumblr](https://www.half-of-the-story.tumblr.com)


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